Undercover Days
by jaed621
Summary: Olivia and Elliot when she returns from undercover..., note M rating, RR, EO, Thanks for reading.
1. Chapter 1

**WARNING: Sexually explicit material, under years old 18 please exit.**

A/N: Set After Olivia has been gone undercover for a while and continues through when she comes back home. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy it!

Undercover Days

Chapter 1

Elliot walks with an even stride down the block cataloging his location as he moves but never taking his eyes off of the legs of the woman a few yards ahead of him. He is drawn by her steps, smooth and in rhythm with his; he lets his gaze travel up to the hem of her leather coat where it bounces against the back of her thighs. He has to catch her, catch her and not scare her. They are approaching a light and he smiles as he watches it turn. They're going to be caught at the light and he can speak to her at last. His fingers tingle as he reaches for her, it's as though he has been asleep and touching her will awaken him. His hand slides against the cool leather as he grasps her arm gently just as he reaches the corner.

"Olivia…" The woman who turns to look at him with a hard questioning expression is not Olivia, not even close. He looks her over and feels as though a fog is seeping from his head and he is suddenly shocked that he could have ever thought this was his Olivia. Her dark hair is dull and cut all wrong, the coat is worn and there is a small tear at the pocket. She's too short and too stocky and her face is, well…not Olivia. How could he ever have thought this was her?

She is glaring at him and then sneering as she speaks. "What the hell are you staring at?" She jerks her arm from his grasp as the light changes and walks briskly away from him, pulling her coat tightly around herself as a shield from his presence. He was going to apologize, to tell her that he had mistaken her for someone else but she seems to have just evaporated from in front of him. He's not surprised; lately he has watched his whole life vanish from his grasp, everyone he loves slipping through his fingers as he desperately tries to hold on to them..

Elliot looks down at his hands in confusion and continues to stand at the corner staring, long after the stranger disappears from view. His watch tells him he left the precinct just over an hour ago. He was walking to the bar down the street but since he has no taste of alcohol in his mouth he must have seen her near work. That means he's been following her for quite a while. He raises his arm to hail a taxi, his fingers are trembling and a thin film of sweat forms on his brow despite the cool weather. He eases into the back seat, across the cracked leather as his lips twitch in response to the locker room scent emanating from the cab.

He gives his address and leans back; his car will be fine at the precinct until tomorrow. He needs to get right home before he thinks about any of this; he needs to be in his own home. He needs to be in his own home, now. He looks out the window as the scent hits him again but it is, after all, a taxi in the city. Millions of people have ridden in this seat, most of them late for something, to catch a plane, to get to work, to get home. He figures there have been a large number of drunks going any number of places they shouldn't go. There were probably the occasional couples having the I can't wait to get home sex and once in a while a pregnant woman in pain. People in a hurry, people upset, and people in love…he suddenly wants out of the vehicle. He fights the urge to wave his arms and tear through the threads of emotions left behind, emotional ghosts webbed around him. Just as the panic begins to surge his building comes into view. The driver is staring at him in the mirror and he sees the skittish look the man is giving him. Elliot realizes that he's talking to himself and the driver is nervous, afraid of him. The driver is actually afraid of him. The idea softens him for just a second and he tosses forty dollars at the man and gets out, mumbling for the guy to keep the change, payment for the guilt he feels.

He has a mental death grip on his thoughts so he moves on auto pilot up to the apartment and lets himself inside. He locks the door and drops his coat to the floor as he walks down the hall; he's trembling with the effort to control himself. He turns the shower on cold and kicks off his tennis shoes before stepping in and turning around in the water. The heat pouring off of him is so strong he expects his skin to start steaming from the edges of his clothes. His mind is slipping and he can't hold on any more, he squeezes his eyes shut as his reality shatters over him. The sound that rips from his chest is not human and his fist snaps repeatedly against the tile. The roaring in his ears drowns out the sound of his voice and as the pain consumes him there is only one thing in his mind.

Olivia.

A few moments later Elliot slowly begins to become aware of his surroundings. He's kneeling in the tub, soaking wet and fully dressed. He reaches behind him and turns off the icy water that is pelting his head and back. As soon as the knob squeaks to a stop the silence echoes against him and he looks at his bleeding hands. They don't hurt yet, the cold water has bought him a few moments to visually assess the damage and gather himself. He watches the blood rush from between ragged bits of skin and across his hand. He thinks fleetingly that there is no color as bright as fresh blood; it glows for those first few moments with the life of the person still within it. He looks curiously at the red marks on the walls just above him and the lines of his blood running in the grout and fading to watery pink as it thins and crests the top of the white porcelain tub. He stands slowly, watching his hands still shaking but more from fear now than anything else. Not fear of this outburst, not of the anger that fueled it, hell they're old friends.

He shivers and begins to strip off his clothes. He was stalking a stranger because something about her for one flickering second reminded him of Olivia. He was getting more and more distracted by anyone that had a feature reminiscent of her. She left him, she fucking left him. If he walked into the other room and dialed her number that fucking disconnection message would come on for the millionth time or maybe even that is no longer playing. The thought of her phone being dead causes him to go still. He fights the urge to go try the number even as he measures how pathetic it is that he thought of it. The recording is at least a tie to her, a sound he knows means that the phone in her house was once ringing. The phone that still bears her prints because she used to answer it. It's proof that she existed, proof that she was part of his life. His chest tightens and he curls his fists, wincing from the pain that is now blooming from deep within his knuckles and fingers.

He leaves the clothes and the bloodied pale tile walls as his brain flashes a thousand scenes from eight years filled with the pale and the bloody…and Liv. He grabs a towel and walks naked to his room, trying to rub warmth back into his limbs he yelps from the pain and drops the towel, pausing to gingerly pull on a pair of sweats. He heads to the kitchen to get ice and aspirin and shakes his head, his thoughts touch on the idea that if a perp acted like he did, he would swear the guy for dirty for something. He's officially out of control. It's just another thing she took when she left, his control, in a long list of things that apparently ends with his sanity. He lifts his arm to punch the counter and thinks better of it. She's been gone so long. He thought it would just take a few days, maybe even a couple of weeks, but as the weeks have become months he has become lost. He is driven, he knows by a small voice in the back of his head that has recently been whispering, what if she never comes back?

He goes to sit down and mindlessly clicks on the television. He tosses the aspirin in his mouth, noting that the bitter taste at the back of his throat suits his mood. He stretches out and pulls a blanket over his cold body and covers his hands with the ice, closing his eyes.

If she was here she would be looking at him with that disapproving look, her eyes dark, the corner of her mouth pulled into a tight smirk. She would examine his hands, cover them with antiseptic and wrap them after they were iced. She would mention having them looked at by a doctor, having them x-rayed and all the while continue to tend to them knowing he was going to say no. She would shake her head with just a hint of a smile, having already mapped all the feelings that brought him to this point she would understand. Even if she didn't always approve, she always understood. Perhaps she would touch his chin to turn his face to hers as she asked him to talk to her, to tell her what happened. Her cool fingers would deflate his rage and begin a ripple of calm moving over him. His chest is heaving with the effort to contain the sob rising within him. His throat is tight, his body pushing the longing up through every pore. His eyes are burning and he feels the tears running down his face, into his ears and around his neck. He loves her.

He loved his wife but it was a life that chose him and as they each grew into  
who they needed to be the marriage didn't survive. It was okay. It took him a while to see that his children would survive each day without him right there to protect them, but he had. They all had moved on without really drifting too much apart and Elliot could take a deep breath when he thought about it now. He could still deal with his concerns for their safety and their future when he saw them.

Now he thinks about how he loves Olivia and it's like nothing he has ever known. It's not a feeling that diminishes how he loves his children or how he loved Kathy, it's just different. Kathy is a woman with whom he could dance but Olivia is a woman that makes him want to, they are two different worlds.

Kathy is fair and light, reminding him of the spring, motherhood, blond hair and blue eyes like his own. When he thinks of her it's always Easter mornings with his children dressed in pastels. Family. Religion. Ritual. Her anger was like a wind blowing, her job based on nesting. She gave herself to him in a sweet embrace of gentle love making and soft sighs. Her body felt like a gift she offered, a vessel that brought him his children and then was wrapped in loose clothing to hide the shame.  
Kathy and Olivia are like night and day.

Olivia, my god she makes him ache with her beauty. She is dark and mysterious, reminding him of autumn, her olive skin always looking like she just stepped from a summer of sun. Her eyes a deep pool of warmth, a passageway to another life. When he thinks of her his entire body becomes more alert, the world is sharper, more in focus, more intense…just more. Her anger comes like a raging storm; she is a fighter, tall and strong next to him in the war of the streets, everyday. She stirs a lust in him that threatens to consume him with its fire and he has never touched her. Still, he has been harder and cum more often with just the thought of her than anyone in his life. She walks boldly in the world, her stride long and powerful. Her body is not a gift she offers; men's body's are gifts she takes for herself.

He never touched her and now that seems so stupid. She was here within his reach every day and he took her close proximity for granted. He kept her near him when he wanted company, he relied on her to have his back, he verbally beat her when he was angry and he put his life in her hands everyday. Why didn't he tell her how he felt? Why didn't he touch her? All those nights that he lay in his bed dreaming of having her beneath him while he pounded into her and still he never touched her, he's a coward. How could he be so afraid of loosing her by fucking it up that he lost her anyway? His head and hands are throbbing and he wants to sleep. He considers a pain pill but lies still instead and closes his eyes.

Cragen had told him that she was so far under that they had no recent word on her. He didn't know what was happening to her. He couldn't be there to protect her. He is torn between wanting to kiss her and wanting to kill her for this. Okay, he wants to kiss her. He wants to start by kissing her and end a day later with her still screaming his name. That would work. A flash of guilt bolts through his thoughts and a hard on rises between his legs as the visual of how he wants to fuck her fills his head. He needs to think of something else, being horny as hell and wanting to pray to heaven for a woman he wants to fuck until one of them passes out has to be a sin on multiple levels. At that thought he almost laughs but it spins into a sob as it leaves him. Some things will not be ignored.

His Catholic boy instinct snaps into gear and he starts the prayer with god, a deal of the religious sort. He swears that he will do his best to be a good man, a better father, a more devout Christian, if he could just have one more chance to tell her how he feels. He'll try to be less angry and more understanding if god would just bring her home to him.

He just wants his partner home.

He just wants her home.

He just wants her.

Olivia.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

As Elliot struggles to sink into sleep Olivia slowly climbs the stairs. She is brimming with a myriad of emotions but only one clear thought.

She's home and in reach of Elliot.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning: sexually explicit, M rating**

Disclaimer: They are not mine, but they want to be.

A/N: You know it had to come to this for them. I continue to be disappointed that the series won't address it. I hope you enjoy it, thanks for reading. Comments are always welcomed.

Undercover 

Chapter 2

Olivia unlocks her door and steps into her apartment. She is shocked at how good it looks, the FBI had told her they had someone going in and out, keeping it clean and running the utilities. She walks into her kitchen and opens the cupboards and looks in the fridge. All her things are there, clean and put away exactly where she left them. There is food in the fridge, things she likes and had before she left. Ironically she has given some of them up while she was away. It's strangely familiar and comforting and just a little creepy, it looks as though she just stepped out a few hours ago. If there's underwear in the hamper she's backing out of here, she laughs at her own nervousness in her home, it's ridiculous. She knows the FBI did it, they probably know more about her now than she does herself, but not more than Elliot. They know everything she did while she was gone but they will never know how she felt about it. All she has to do is tell Elliot the circumstances and he'll know, but she's getting way ahead of herself.

First she has to see him. She had called and talked to Fin while she was in a step down unit being debriefed on her life. They had created a story for her absence, told her what could not be said and went over the details with her for days before letting her go home. In her own time she was allowed to slowly reestablish contact with her friends to put her story out there on her home turf ahead of her arrival. She had called Fin and Cragen and asked them not to say anything to Elliot. Cragen had sounded strange and she knew something was happening but he told her he'd get her back into the squad if she wanted to return. She didn't bother asking about Elliot, she knew that her boss would have said back with her partner if the space was available. It took her three days to calm down enough to call Fin. 

Fin on the other hand was straight up with her despite the slightly awkward undertone to the conversation. He told her about Dani, stating that he didn't know what was between them. She found it interesting that his own observation was that the best part of the woman seemed to have been buried with her dead husband. He wasn't being cruel, just honest. He thought that her bond with Elliot was based on grief and nothing more. Olivia asked if Elliot was still taking his divorce that badly and she could hear Fin make that sound, the one that meant he thought she just said the stupidest thing he'd ever heard. In her minds eye she could see him drop his head and shake it in that Fin way.

"You Olivia, every moment you've been gone the man has been mourning you." His words still rang in her head. She had chatted with him about the rest of the squad, getting a feel for the atmosphere. He had assured her that after five minutes inside the door it would feel like she had never left.

Accept for the other woman in my seat. Accept for the other woman partnered with Elliot. No, no, no Olivia, do NOT think about her now.

Olivia had to focus to finish the conversation with him. He had asked her why she had called him and she knew what the real question was behind his words. Why him and not Munch, whom she has known for so long? Olivia was aware of the partner code, Fin would have to tell Munch that he had spoken to Olivia and Munch would talk his ear off all day on the thousands of possible reasons Olivia had not chosen to call him instead. She started chuckling and Fin sighed in relief on the other end of the phone because she understood him. In that moment he was sure she was the Olivia he knew and he couldn't have been happier to hear from her, all the awkwardness faded away. Olivia had made Fin promise not to tell Munch she had been in a debriefing program or he would be freaking out over everything she said for the next six months. They were both laughing when she hung up but she was aching with longing to go back to all of them. At that point she just wanted the FBI shit to be over and she didn't care about their Protocol.

Olivia had stayed in her room the next day, refusing to see anyone, much to the dismay of the FBI. The information from home was ambiguous and she needed to be still with it, ruminate until she had a plan or a truth. She had learned a lot about being still while undercover. 

Elliot had a female partner and something was between them, Fin had used the word bond, she couldn't dwell on that for long or it became hard for her to breathe. Could she return to the precinct and watch him partner with another woman every day. No. Clearly and abso-fucking-lutely not. She would have to transfer if the temporary replacement was staying.

Okay, she had also learned that Elliot had grieved her absence. Was he still grieving for her or had he moved on? A knot in her chest tightened at the thought. She didn't want to ask Fin for details, she knew he wasn't comfortable with that and she didn't want to sound like a twelve year old. It was enough to know that Elliot was angry and hurt and it wasn't going to be an easy conversation. By the next morning she cooperated fully to get home as fast as was physically possible.

Now here she is, standing around reviewing when she needs to shower and change her clothes, do some routine things in her own home to settle back in to her space. She pauses at the counter to plug in her cell phone, they had taken the one she used undercover and had only returned her old one today.

Olivia needs to make the apartment hers again; it still feels a little off somehow. Could it be smaller than she remembered in just a few months? How could the room feel smaller but the bed appear so much bigger? Her eyes fall to her bed with a look of longing but she has things to put away and she wants that shower and a cup of tea. She takes out her gun enjoying the familiar weight of it in her hand. She was surprised this morning when it was returned to her. She lays the gun and her badge on the nightstand and immediately feels more like she lives here. Her smile is fleeting as she retrieves her bag. 

Elliot opens his eyes and sits up rapidly, feeling his abdomen. The spreading wetness on his stomach is water, just water. He had been dreaming that he was shot and it was his blood oozing into his clothes. The bag of ice has slipped to the floor but there's a wet spot on the sofa cushion and the floor and the bag looks like a giant used condom sitting scrunched up with a small puddle still inside. Elliot starts to chuckle, at least it's a dream about getting shot and not about being fucked. Still laughing, he looks at his hands, flexing them slowly. They're not as bad as he had predicted they would be, maybe it was the cold water. Two knuckles of one hand look pretty torn up and there's definitely some swelling and discoloration across the back, still, all in all not too bad. If he trims off the ragged bits of skin and lets it scab over it won't look too damaging. He doesn't have to go in for the next two days anyway so by the time he returns to work it will be as good as new, or as good as new but purple.

His nap has made him feel better but he knows what will really help, the one thing that brings him comfort, his own personal secret. He has only indulged in it three times since she left, always late at night and always when the ache of missing her was too great to bear. At those times, he felt he had to do something to prove to himself that she was still a part of his life and this was the only one of his choices that was not destructive. After all, he had already tried destructive tonight and that didn't accomplish anything. He heads back into his bedroom and carefully dresses in jeans, a black t-shirt and pull over hoodie but it's the simple act of tying his tennis shoes that reminds him of his hands being sore. He pops two more aspirin, takes his wallet, gun, badge, his gloves and most importantly the key. He grabs his leather jacket, checks the pocket for his apartment keys and heads out the door with a lively step. He promises himself it will only be for a minute, but he already knows he's not going to keep it. 

Olivia stretches her arms over her head, rolling her neck and trying to keep herself relaxed. She has all her personal items put away and has gone through the apartment and moved things around so it doesn't feel like a cleaning lady just left. She's been around other people for months, day and night. The solitude moves over her like waves at the beach, soothing her one moment and reaching with the under tow to drowned her in the next. Within this silence her voice seems louder in her head and she starts to think of all the things she wouldn't do while bunking with the righteous but mostly homeless protesters. 

She was amazed at how relaxed they were, never worrying about where they would stay or eat, never concerned with when they would next be able to shower or how they looked. They weren't dirty, not really, things always just seemed to work out so there was a shelter or a house they rented with money from sales of the things they made, or from donations, or from someone's worried family or from a whole list of other sources. Life moved in its own rhythm though and she often heard someone say not to worry, if they slept in a tent one night they would have a house the next three, if they missed a meal one day they might have two the next, eventually everything happened as it should.

It was against all of Olivia's instincts and training to not have a direction, to not have a lead. She was not the laid back type of woman but over time it served her well to learn to sensor all her words, to pause before she spoke. It probably saved her life once or twice. She was very good at the observing and the paranoia, with that part of the crowd she fit in perfectly. There were many nights that she sat quietly and listened to long debates within the group over the environment, the atmosphere, the government or any number of topics. She often thought about what a field day Munch would have with these people. More often than not, when she appeared fascinated by their words, she was really thinking about home, about her job, and about Elliot. She would have gladly given up food and shelter just to hear him say her name.

She walks into her bathroom and turns the shower on hot, stripping her clothes onto the floor she climbs in immediately and sighs contentedly as the water pours over her. A hot shower, in her own home, she rests against the tile wall for a moment and lets the soft sob rise within her. She knows it's coming from every moment she had been afraid and couldn't show it, from the monumental relief that it's over and she's out of it. She has been carrying that sense of an impending accident for such a long time, it was exhausting. At first she was terrified they would discover who she was and then later she was terrified she had become so good at being someone else that she would never find herself again. The whole thing was a highly stressful mind fuck and not the good kind. She puts her head back and let's herself have this time now that she made it back. She has been punishing herself since the moment she said yes to the assignment, picturing Elliot when he knew she was gone and weighing the possibility that she may have lost him the moment she agreed to go. She washes slowly and shampoos her hair with her own shampoo. She's glad to shave and realizes as she does that every act she performs brings her one step closer to being Detective Olivia Benson once again. In that moment the shower feels cathartic and she dares to hope that the world she is re-entering still has him in it. She finally turns off the water and steps out; the crying and the heat have slowed her down a bit. She towels her longer hair and decides as she walks into her bedroom, that she may keep it for a while. She grabs the NYPD grey t-shirt and pulls it over her head with a smile before pulling out a pair of ultra soft under shorts. Yep, every act brings her a step closer to herself.

She goes to the kitchen to put the water on, noticing the light on her cell blinking she scrunches her forehead in confusion. The cell was shut off, why is the message light blinking? She leaves it plugged in and flips it open with an automatic snap. The message and missed call icons are blinking, when she opens the file she gasps loudly and pages through the phone. The phone must not have been turned off until two days after she left, in that time there were 27 calls from Elliot. Jesus Christ. What frame of mind are you in when you call someone 27 times in two days?

Her heart is pounding as she looks over the statistics on the screen, they vary in length, some have messages attached, some were disconnected after the recording played and they were dialed in clusters through the night. She squeezes the phone shut, clutching it until her knuckles turn white. The tears flow unheeded down her face and her body vibrates with what she knows she's holding. A squeaky hysterical sound twists from her heaving chest at the irony. All those months she lay in desperation to hear his voice and if she wants to hear it now it will be in the form of his pain as he realized she was gone. By his book this would be considered punishment for her sins, even if he would never ever say that to her. He would, in fact, take the phone from her and tell her not to listen, which is exactly why she flips it open.

It was that fucking case that started it all, putting Elliot in front of her gun, forcing the issue for her, seeding it so deeply in her mind it was bound to grow. She thought she left because she needed something within her to change, even if it came in the form of a part of her breaking. She had to know what would cause her to crack; missing her life, missing her job or missing him. She was stupid enough to think that it would make her choice clear and for her it would be finished. She would come back and either leave the job or leave him before they destroyed each other. She wanted to explain, she wanted…what the fuck difference does it make what she wanted? She thought she was going to find an answer for the both of them and she never considered what it would do to him, at least not until it was too late.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. He paid the price. What did she think she was doing? She doesn't even know how he feels. Will he even give a fuck about how she feels? And now there's another woman. Maybe all he needed all along was for her to get out of the way. Jesus fucking Christ what has she done?

She jerks her wrist and the plug snaps out of the wall and back lashes against her leg, stinging on impact. She only needs enough power to listen to 5 actual voice messages. She heads back down the hall turning off the lights on the way to her bedroom and lies across her bed. She curls her legs up into her chest and pulls her comforter over her. In the dark she puts her phone to her ear and enters her password to retrieve messages. Squeezing her eyes shut tightly she tries to brace herself and then before she can possibly be ready, his voice fills her head. Those first few seconds when it's just so distinctly and completely him all the air rushes from her lungs and every moment she ever spent with him comes flooding back to her. She thinks she may not survive this after all. Her whole body tingles as she listens to him say her name and ask, in that voice that gathers the moisture between her legs, if she's there.

"I'm here Elliot." Without moving she listens to all 5 calls.

Her eyes are burning and her face and chest hurt from crying as she moves on auto pilot through the dark into the bathroom and runs a washrag under the cold water. Curiosity. Worry. Panic. Anger. Broken. That was the sound of him in each call. The actual words don't matter. She goes back to bed and puts the rag over her eyes, struggling to stay still. How could she come home so calm and solid, so sure, only to end up so confused? She has exhausted herself and she feels the weight of sleep settling in her limbs at last so she gratefully relaxes into it. 

Elliot is tired of driving and ready to lie down. He's been as patient as he's capable of being at this time of night. He shouldn't have had those two cups of coffee waiting for it to get dark. He's been driving around a city he knows better than he ever knew his own back yard. He has a soft erection at the thought of his destination and he silences the voice that whispers in the back of his head that this is not okay. He parks down the block, puts on his gloves and flips up his hood, walking casually down the street. He pops the door and enters the building, picturing the look of disapproval Liv would be giving him at that moment. He moves up the stairs quickly and quietly, so he is panting lightly when he reaches the door. He unlocks both locks and slips inside, closing and locking the door back behind him. He sags against the wall, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with her. He feels dizzy with the scent and it has been so long it almost feels like she is right in front of him. His body instantly relaxes, his cock begins to grow hard.

He opens his eyes and moves down the hall, pushing the door open he's right up on the bed when he sees her. He gasps loudly and she moves but does not wake. He could touch her without moving he's so close. As his eyes continue to adjust he takes in the details, afraid to move, afraid it's a hallucination. Her hair is longer and she has bangs, but it's Olivia. She is half on her belly with one leg drawn up and his eyes move slowly down her body. He's completely hard now, just from her nearness. He can see the outline of her breasts and his fingers twitch at his sides to touch her. She turns a bit, burrowing deeper into her mattress and curling her shoulder as though she's chilled. He wants to cover her but he can't bring himself to do it. His eyes move to the gentle curve of her ass and his mouth goes dry. The urge to smooth his palm over her cheek and let his fingers dip between her thighs to the moist heat trapped there is overwhelming. Jesus, he wants her. His partner, his Olivia. His dick jerks at the thoughts in his head. He just doesn't care about the rest of it. She's here, she's half naked and nothing else matters. Nothing. If he wasn't certain he'd pay for it with a broken bone he would reach for her breast and even then he considers it for a moment. As he stands there, his mind racing, his dick harder than he can ever remember it being, the unthinkable happens.

Olivia opens her eyes.

Her hand snaps toward her weapon before her brain registers that it's him and then it freezes, her fingertips grazing the grip. Neither of them is moving Olivia questions whether or not she's awake. She blinks slowly, orienting herself. She can hear them breathing, she can hear the city, she's home and in her own bed and awake and Elliot is standing over her. Her eyes move over him. Holy fucking shit, correction, Elliot is standing over her with an erection. She sucks in her breath and she knows he has seen her notice his current state. Fuckfuckfuck…fuckfuckfuck…

"Liv." His voice is light as though he can't believe his eyes but is stating what he sees to find out what'll happen. She's staring at him, thousands of questions firing through her brain. She can feel the heat pouring off her body. She pulls herself up on her elbow to look at him and the haze of light from the night sky falls across her. She has never looked more beautiful to him.

"Liv." Her nipples tighten and heat pulses between her legs in response to him. It feels like a dream, even with all of her senses on hyper alert it still feels like a dream.

"El, what are you doing here?" She sits up, twisting at the waist and slipping her feet to the floor but he is so close to the bed he is directly in front of her now and entirely too close. She stands up and even then his presence seems to just fill the whole room. He takes a small step back, terrified that his hard on is going to brush against her. He wants to welcome her back, hug her, like old friends would do but he can't manage to move.

"I come by sometimes to check on things." The partial truth rolls out of him so easily it scares him but this is Liv and he doesn't want to play games any more. Still he can't bring himself to tell her that he was coming to lie down on her bed so he could feel her close to him, so he could sleep. His conscience, which sounds strangely like a seven year old alter boy, reminds him that he just swore to god a few hours ago that if he got this chance he wouldn't fuck it up.

"In the middle of the night?" She can't believe her response to him is a cop question. All these months and she comes back to have THE talk with him and this is how she's beginning it? What the hell is the matter with her? What is he doing here in the middle of the night? Were his shoulders always that big? Were his thighs? Get a grip, now. She thought she had more time to prepare for this meeting. Damn it.

He laughs softly and it feels like a warm blanket is being thrown over her. "Yeah, in the middle of the night, it makes me feel better. With you gone and your phone shut off, it's the only way I can convince myself that you still exist. I kept expecting that one day I would unlock the door and this apartment would just be empty and you'd be gone forever." His voice had started out strong but faded down to a whisper. There, the truth, just like he promised, only the truth.

She's shocked by his honesty and the raw pain in his voice, "you thought I wasn't coming back?"

"How would I know what you were doing? The morning you left I would have said you weren't leaving at all, even for a short time." There's a little anger there, and a spark in his eyes.

"I'm sorry about that Elliot, it couldn't be helped. I wanted to get word to you but they wouldn't let me. I'm sorry, but don't pretend you didn't know something had to change. In the moment that I had to decide about going it seemed like the right thing to do. I needed some space to sort things out and at that point we weren't any good as partners. It would have been a matter of time before one of us made a costly mistake." She watches his jaw flex as he clenches and unclenches it while he works through her words. His eyes drop from hers to the small scar on her neck and she sees him soften, his shoulders drop and the aggression seeps from his stance.

"You could have tried talking to me." It's clearly an accusation and he sees the small flinch. He wants to stop hurting her but he has to understand and part of him is still so angry and still so hurt himself that he can't, not yet.

"No, there was no talking to you, and especially about this, WE never talk about this." She's starting to get angry because, after all, this was not only about her. She didn't go through this alone.

"About what Liv? We never talk about what?" His tone is sarcastic but she picks up something else, his voice is too high, he's afraid. 

She's watching his expression intently and without taking her eyes off of his she makes it simple, "about us El. We never talk about us. Not once in eight years have we ever used our words to say anything about us."

His eyes squint just a bit as he tries to look into her more deeply, tries to judge what her definition is when she says us. Does she mean us as friends, us as partners or us as a couple. The forbidden us, that would be the couple that is acutely aware that they are standing in her bedroom having this discussion.

"Elliot, I had to leave to find out what I actually missed when I was gone. Was it my job? Or was it you?" She turns away from him and starts pacing between her bed and the far wall.

"So what did you find out?" He's frozen, unable to believe that after all these years they are having this conversation and so terrified of the answer he can't make his lungs expand for air. She is moving like a caged animal and all he can see is how long and tan and graceful her legs are as she continuously moves across the floor. The line of her thigh muscle as she walks has him mesmerized and god help him he is thinking about those thighs wrapped around his waist or his head. His dick throbs painfully as his eyes track her every move. She stops and looks at him and he prays she doesn't notice the tightening in his jeans again.

"It doesn't matter what I found out now does it? You moved on while I was gone, got yourself a partner and then some." It hisses across the space between them as if she had spun out a knife from an underhand throw. He could almost feel the thud of the impact, Dani. Olivia was a much better cop than he would ever be. How long had she been back in town and how the fuck had she found out so fast? He knew this was an all or nothing answer, no room for partial truths here. 

"You're misinformed, Liv. I have a temporary partner and she will never be anything more than that simply because she isn't you. I'm not going to lie to you, I tried to make it stop hurting by forcing myself to go on but I couldn't do it. It never got beyond one kiss. My question is, why am I having to explain myself to a woman that is not my wife, not my girlfriend and currently not my active partner?" She's looking at him now and has, in fact, moved closer to him while he was speaking. When she doesn't answer, he prompts her. 

"Liv, what did you find out while you were gone? I think since you did it for us and since we both paid a high price for your absence I deserve to know what the outcome was so I can judge for myself whether or not it was worth it."

She is hardly breathing.

No physical weapons are being held on her, no perps are hiding in the dark and still this is the most dangerous situation of her life.

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

Undercover chapter 3

**Warning: sexually explicit material, rated M**

She stands there looking trapped, her eyes actually darting from him to the door and for a moment he thinks she's going to bolt. Then it occurs to him as it probably did her, that it's the middle of the night, this is her apartment and she's half dressed. All reasons not to be running from the building. Her mother's voice is resounding in her head, playing an old recording of doubt, reminding her that she isn't worthy of this, that she will never be good with anyone. Monogamy is not in her genetics, not on either side, so she's not even capable of an actual relationship. She can't do this. Why did she ever think she could?

Elliot watches her expression as she mentally struggles to find him an answer. He walks up to her, stopping when he is so close if she takes a deep breath they'd be touching. The scent of him fills her and she feels herself grow damp. In her mind Elliot is the scent of sex and pure raw desire and the sense that this powerful man is about to leap causes her womb to pulse.

"Liv, look at me. Tell me what you learned while you were gone. Was it harder to leave the job, or me?" She looks into his eyes, a cavernous blue so intense it feels like a touch moving under her clothes. She raises her hand and places it on his chest; she can feel the vibration of his heart pounding through her palm and up to her fingertips. Everything inside her becomes silent, the warning alarms, her mother's voice and every argument she has ever given herself for not doing this with him. She can hear herself breathing, or maybe it's him, she isn't sure. She entertains the possibility that it's both of them as she slowly moves her hand up over the solid feel of him to the rough caress of his neck.

Elliot understands that this has to be her decision because for her it's not just about a relationship with him. Her hand on his chest is the first time she has ever touched him with an intent outside those the State of New York would find acceptable. Six months ago that thought would have panicked him but he's survived being without her on the job so he has nothing to lose and everything to gain. She spreads her fingers and moves her hand over his chest, her baby finger swipes over his nipple as she makes her way to his neck. He is sure his dick has turned to stone and he hasn't even kissed her yet. She turns her eyes back to his and the smoldering desire swirling in their dark depths draws him toward her. Her hand presses the back of his neck in a subtle urging and he brushes his lips against hers. The small touch inspires her into motion and she presses her self into him and kisses him.

His lips are softer than she expected and after just a second he responds to her. She slides her tongue along his lip and he opens to her, tasting her as she strokes his tongue and sinks into him. She tilts her head and deepens the kiss, her pace increasing, her mouth sucking, nipping his lips, her tongue thrusting against his. The flames burst between them and the heat is searing down the front of her and pooling between her thighs. She leans back for air and takes that second to tug his hoodie up his torso, he helps her pull it over his head and drops it to the floor. He dips back toward her but she already has his t-shirt half way up so he complies and raises his arms, letting her take it from him.

The second kiss is all his, he slides a hand into her hair and closes his fist, holding her, owning this moment with her. He slants his lips and dips his head, feasting on the taste of her, increasing in depth and intensity, pulling back to suck softly on her bottom lip or nip it's edges before tasting some more. Her head is spinning and when he moves his other hand to her lower back and presses her hips against his erection she thinks she may cum. She moans as he pushes into her, and she tips her hips up and back, grinding her lips along the outline of his cock. Something like a growl comes from his chest. Her hands stroke over his shoulders, across his back and down as far as she can reach, she sinks her nails in on the way back up and his body arches against her.

She pulls away from his mouth, she wants to lie down, and she wants to feel the weight and power of him without restraint, above her, in her. His hands keep moving, around her waist now, across the soft skin of her abdomen and up to the tender flesh under her breast. He brushes his finger tips over her breast before holding her nipple and brushing his thumb over top of it. He watches the flat muscles across her abdomen tighten and release as he touches her and smiles a slow sexy grin. She undoes his jeans and pushes them down, pausing at his thighs to raise her arms as he peels her shirt over her head. He stomps his feet to get out of his jeans and sneakers, toeing his socks so that he is now completely naked. When he looks up she is standing in her underwear smiling at him and his eyes move slowly over her. Her beauty makes him ache in a familiar place built from hours of watching her. He steps to her and hooks his thumbs in the sides of her bottoms, squatting in front of her as he pulls them down. The top of her thighs and the underwear are damp with her arousal for him and her skin glistens in the dim light.

"Jesus Christ Liv." His voice is so low she can feel its rough edges and it blends with his touch as he smoothes his hands up her legs, letting each curve fill his palm. He slowly stands, easing his hand between her thighs over the soft curls where her lips have slightly parted in anticipation of his touch. She closes her eyes and as he strokes into her fold, into the hot depth of her she moans, tipping her head back. He puts a hand around her waist and presses lightly on her clit making her knees go weak and her weight shift against him. 

"Bed El. Let's get into bed." It's as much of a coherent thought as she is capable of forming. He reluctantly pulls his fingers from inside her and then smiles as he puts them in his mouth and sucks her juice from them. He realizes at that moment he will never taste enough of her to satisfy his hunger. She takes his hand and walks the few steps, pulling back the cover and climbing in without hesitation. She feels the mattress dip behind her and he is there as she turns. Elliot Stabler, her partner and friend of eight years is climbing naked into bed with her. Elliot. She turns toward him and he is on his side, his elbow propping his head up so he can look at her. He leans down and kisses her softly, as though they have all the time in the world, as though his cock is not poking into her side with solid urgency. She strokes her fingers down his cheek and along his jaw, trails the pad of her finger over his lips. She touches him like he's alien to her, moving her hands over his muscled chest, pressing into the firm plains and tracing her fingertips along the ridges. She moves her mouth down, opening her lips and gliding her tongue over him, grazing the ridges of her teeth across his nipple and then licking the same spot as he hisses air into his lungs.

She curls her fingers around the thickness of his cock and a rush of warmth and wetness blooms between her thighs in response. He's big and she knew that, his attitude alone would have told her, but they were partners for eight years, she had seen flashes of the bulge his body created. She slides her hand up and down the length of him and then her fingers find the drop at the head. She swipes it off, bringing up her hand and sucking the finger into her mouth. Elliot groans loudly and grabs her wrists, in one fluid motion he rolls onto her and pins her arms next to her head. She has the suddenly feeling she has awakened a lounging beast. The shear size of him, the expanse of his chest and arms above her suggests a dominance he does not have to assert.

He kisses her and the time for play and exploring is over. His mouth claims hers, takes what he wants even though she is giving it all willingly. He moves down her neck and sucks a path to her pulse where his lips pause and his tongue flicks to match the rhythm. She is moaning against him and nipping at his neck and shoulder as he moves, rocking her hips up against him. He travels down the front of her leaving a slippery pink trail as he reaches her breast. She pulls her hands but he holds them and lifts his head, he looks at her eyes glassy with desire and yearning, she nods slightly. He dips back down, his mouth moving over and around her breasts, back and forth between them, sucking the skin, nipping the edges but not touching her tightly pebbled nipples. She squirms beneath him pushing her body, trying to force the contact she so desperately wants. She drops her knees out to the side and tilts her hips up, rubbing down his cock with the moisture from her pussy. He cries out softly and pulls the nipple of her breast with his teeth before sucking it firmly into his mouth. He is relentless on the sensitive tight nub of flesh and she rocks hard against his cock, crying out his name. If she had the breath she'd beg him and just as she thinks that, she feels him release her hands and lift his hips, the smooth head of his cock sliding between her lips to the first hint of resistance. She pushes up a little and bites her lower lip against the pinch, grabbing onto his shoulders and pressing her fingers into his flesh. She pushes a little more and he waits for her to adjust. He doesn't want to move, as her body stretches over him, tight and molten hot, it's all he can do to keep from cuming. He kisses her neck and around her ear in soft wet kisses. She slides her hands under and around to his ass, his cheeks are clenched to rock hard and she pulls him into her, spreading her knees wider and wiggling her hips as she takes in the base of him and feels his belly pressing into hers. Elliot's trembling with the need to start moving, to feel her around him in motion, with friction. She draws herself off him some and then pushes back and he gasps loudly in her ear. She lightens her grip on his ass and she feels his muscles flex under her hands as he pulls slowly out and sinks back into her. He moves again with the same agonizing slowness, in and back.

"Elliot." Her voice is really just a breath of disbelief. He lifts and pushes in a little harder this time.

"Oh god, Liv." Soon he's going to have to move, he can't bear the intensity of this much longer without bursting inside her. He pulls slowly all the way out, feeling every flutter of her walls as they fold around him and then rocks back into her. He hears her whimper as she pushes up to meet him. He can't hold on so he begins to move, increasing his speed coming up hard against her as she raises her hips to his rhythm.

She's pulling on his ass, a steady moaning sound hums from her lips. He slips his arm under her knee and moves it up on the bed, coming up onto his knees at a low angle he let's himself go. His hips rocket against her, slamming into her depths, his other hand moves above her shoulder to keep her from sliding away from him, her hands are wound around his neck, her fingers pressed into him, holding on tightly. He feels her back arch up hard, her muscles slamming around his cock as she hammers her hips into his, a sound so sexual careening from her he explodes as he hears it. He pushes into her, his thighs tighten, his shoulders rise up and his hips lock against hers as he pumps himself into her. She can feel the heat of him emptying into her belly and her body continues to clench, the orgasms overlapping and shooting down her limbs, her muscles in spasm around his cock. She stays pressed into him and he rhythmically descends with her, slowing each stroke as they settle. He has let her leg go and wrapped himself tightly around her and the pressure of him feels good against her, safe. His chest is still heaving for breath and his leg is twitching against hers. She curls her legs around his and wraps her arms around his body waiting for the rushing in her ears to subside, the spots behind her eyes, the trembling in her limbs. Her entire body is still vibrating from the feel of him. He is feathering kisses down her neck, knowing that if he's afraid of what just exploded between them, she has to be. He's still inside her and he can feel her body occasionally pulse around him.

He wraps his arms fully around her and rolls them over and she yelps in surprise. She is now curled over him, her head on his chest and he pulls the blanket over their cooling bodies. She squeezes her inner muscles around his resting penis and he chuckles beneath her. Her body temp has shifted and she's getting warm against him and under the blanket so she shoves it off and suddenly sits up. She tips her head back and shakes out her hair.

"It's hot in here El. Do you want something to drink?" He is staring at her, just staring. "Elliot, what's the matter?" She calm but there's an undertone of concern.

"You're so beautiful."

She leans over and kisses him softly, "don't make me think I fucked you senseless." Before he can respond she has eased off him and is headed down the hall, flashing him a wide smile over her shoulder. The length of her muscular back and her perfect ass receding down the hall is almost enough to make him get up and follow her.

He closes his eyes for a moment and stretches in her bed when his foot hits something. Reaching under the covers he pulls out her cell phone with the charging cord attached and with a curious expression lays it on the nightstand. He lays back, tucking his arms under his head and breathing in the scent of them from the bed.

She reappears in the door and leans against the frame. "I'm starving, do you want something?" Her eyes are drawn to the movement as his cock stirs against his belly. She smiles and walks over to the bed, where he is now flashing a seductive grin. Like some kind of magic trick, the closer she gets the harder he becomes. She is laughing softly by the time she is standing next to him. "Well apparently you do."

tbc...


	4. Chapter 4

Undercover Days Chapter 4

**Warning: This is an M rated chapter, you must be 18 years of age or older to continue. Language and sexual situations.**

A/N: I love writing these two characters and writing them in sexual scenes is the best in my book, so I hope you all enjoy. Thanks for reading, comments are welcome.

She reaches out with one finger and strokes his cock and it tightens even further. Her smile has turned wicked.

"What are you thinking?" She asks him, but she already has some idea.

"About how good you're going to taste when I spread your thighs and dip my tongue inside you. About the first time I let myself think of how you would taste." He looks up at her, desire sparkles in her dark eyes as one eyebrow raises in question. "It was during the kidnapping of that boy, Adam; the one whose schizophrenic father thought he was his son Tate. We were looking for the boy in an abandoned building and you were wearing a tight purple shirt and these jeans that rode low on your hips with a wide leather belt. I remember thinking that I wanted to run my tongue there, along the strip of skin I could see." His fingers trace a line across her belly as she stands next to the bed and she watches his eyes grow dark with the memory. His hand drifts lower and his fingers graze through her dark damp curls. He takes a deep breath, drawing in the scent of her wanting him. A drop appears on the head of his penis and she spreads it around with her finger as he breathes in again and another one appears. "I wanted you so badly on that day I could hardly walk. I could almost taste your skin, smell the leather of that belt and feel your jeans against my chin. I thought about placing my hands on your ass and lifting you up to my face. You have an amazing ass by the way; it's given me hours of personal entertainment. I think there were days that I came to work just for that." Her cheeks flare with the thought of his eyes having been on her all these years. "I watched you tear the wood off the door of that building when I came back from getting the flashlight from the car and you could not have looked any sexier. The sky was so blue and your eyes were the warmest liquid brown, I thought I could dive into them and disappear. We could hear the boy hitting pipes in the building and we knew we had found him alive. The exhilaration, the adrenaline, the desire, it was overwhelming but I remember it as such a good day. I felt _so_ good." His thick fingers slide between her lips, teasing her slick opening, letting some of the heat escape over his knuckles before moving slowly inside her. He hears her slight gasp. "Later, when I was alone, I masturbated until my dick ached with that image of you in my head. Sometimes I still do." She drops her hand down and pulls up a long stroke around his swollen erection and when she releases it, it slaps against his belly and the sound brings a small smile from her.

Her voice is only a whisper that he has to concentrate on to hear. "Elliot, that was over four years ago."

"I know." She's touched by the honesty in his confession and wraps the story up like a gift inside her to open again later when she's alone. He slips his hand from between her legs and with an ease that startles her he takes her by the hips and lift her over him and onto the bed so quickly she doesn't have time to fully panic. She watches the muscles in his arms and across his chest bulge with definition as he moves her and her fingers curl with the urge to touch him. As soon as she is settled against the pillow his mouth is on her neck, his lips and tongue working their way down to her shoulder. She moans softly and slides her hands over his arms and shoulders loving the way his soft flesh suddenly turns solid as his muscles tense. He moves his body over her and nestles himself between her legs, leaving feather light kisses across her chest as he goes. Her hand caresses the back of his head and the pads of her fingers dance across his neck. Still held by years of deprivation she hesitates before kissing him. She sucks gently on his bottom lip before slanting her mouth across his and giving him her tongue. He nudges her tongue with his, and soon he's kissing her, moving deeper with so much passion she moans into him. She feels the line of desire tighten from between her legs to her lips until her hips are softly rocking to the rhythm of his tongue.

He breaks the kiss and moves down her neck to her breast where his mouth is hot on her nipple, his lips sucking in a slow firm pull as his tongue flicks rapidly over the tip. His fingers graze over the delicate flesh of her other breast and the multiple sensations leave her moaning and arching into him. He nips at the tender bud and her hips jerk hard against him, he smiles and nips again then jumps when he feels the sharp sting on his ass as she strikes him. His eyes catch hers and she hisses in a short breath at the intense desire she sees reflected there. He growls and grinds his hard length against her and her hand slides over his ass, soothing the warm handprint she's left there. He dips his head back to her breast and she looks at the slick swollen nipple of the one he left behind and smiles before closing her eyes. She's moaning and clutching his shoulders as he tortures her other nipple causing shocks of pleasure to run from her breast to her clit. She slides her arm between them, trying to reach between her legs so she can release the screaming need building inside her but he catches her wrist and laughs softly. He has sucked her nipple to a bright red, so swollen and sensitive that when he flicks the tip with his tongue she cries out and pushes up against him. He releases her wrist and puts his hands on the bed, lifting himself above her he looms for a moment, looking at her. His gaze moves down her body, marked by his attention and he licks his lips. He looks so powerful to her, so primitive, on the brink of dangerous. He moves down as he lowers himself, licking a path around her navel, sucking softly on the line of flesh he's waited so long to taste. Her thighs are trembling as he strokes them, the anticipation is gathering into a sob in her chest. She can feel the heat of her own juice trickle between her folds. She has never allowed a man to do this to her while she was sober. As he drags her thighs apart she feels so exposed, so vulnerable, that she has to close her eyes. He curls his hands under her thighs and holds her hips and she tips herself toward him.

His tongue dips in her folds, lapping the taste of her into his mouth, his lips push between hers like a kiss before he sinks into her. He explores her and circles her opening with his tongue, then slides it flat up her center and over the throbbing swell of her clit. Something like a sob bursts from her and rolls into a moaning sound. As he flicks his tongue hard against her she begins to cry out to god. She is moving now, arching and pushing against him, he's holding onto her tightly as he dips his tongue against her and pumps rapidly, humming and sliding up to suck on her clit, when he pulls it between his teeth she shatters. She slams hard up against him and he fights to hold onto her, her thighs and hips pushing into him, dropping into the mattress and jerking back up. She's riding a hard wave of sensation, her clit almost stinging from the sharp pleasure as he continues to suck and lick her seizing pussy. She grabs his shoulders and pulls him up, clenching her thighs in a lock around him.

"Wait…oh god…just wait…a second…_oohhh god_…." She is gasping for air, her body flexing and twitching and so he gently lays his head down, his cheek against her lower belly, her pubic hair dusting his jaw. He pulls his arms out and over the top of her so he can hug her hips and thighs against him and this is how he lays, holding her.

Her eyes are still closed and she can feel the hot tears squeezing from the corners and running down into her hairline, into her ears. She's not even religious and she's sure it has to be a sin to feel this way, to want and need this much. To want him. To need him. To feel. This much. Remember to breathe. Her hands are still on his shoulders and she relaxes her grip. She doesn't have to look to know there are going to be marks on him tomorrow, maybe tonight. She tightens her legs to try to steady her jumping muscles and she feels him smile against her belly. His hand begins slowly stroking down her thigh, a steady gentle touch. Her heart is still hammering but her breathing is beginning to slow so she opens her eyes, eases her hand up and wipes away the trace of tears. It's oddly comforting to have him wrapped around her hips and she places her hand on the back of his head, he reaches up and takes it in his own.

He becomes so still, his breath warm on the curve of her hip, that she wonders if he has fallen asleep. After a few moments she tugs on his hand and he turns his head and looks up her body, between her breasts, to see her smiling.

"Come here." He turns his head and places a kiss just beneath her navel before pulling himself up and next to her. "You were so still I thought you might have fallen asleep."

"Well, you were praying so I thought I'd give you a minute." He's laughing when she smacks his arm. "OUCH! I had no idea you were so prone to spontaneous slapping while in bed."

She blushes just slightly, "how is your ass, anyway?" She reaches over his hip and lightly strokes his cheek and he clenches it to rock hard beneath her touch.

"It's fine. I like your hand print there so much I may have it tattooed on." He tries to look serious but can't contain his grin.

"You don't need a tattoo; I'll put another one there for you anytime." The game shifts in that second and his look changes, the playful sparkle in his eyes turns to a smoky hue instead and his dick rises to attention.

"Remember that you said _anytime_ because I'm going to hold you to it." This time he manages to hold his serious expression.

"You don't scare me." She's looking at him with her steady gaze but its all fire and heat without any anger. She's bluffing because he does scare her; he terrifies the hell out of her. He was supposed to stay her exception, the one man she could love completely because he would never be available, the one man she could let have it all becausehe was married, the one man that she could really let see her because he was her partner. What the fuck happened? The forbidden fruit was peeled and served up to her on a platter. Okay, she may have peeled it herself, but still, the fact remains that Elliot is here, naked in her bed. Naked in her bed and touching her. She thinks if she sleeps she'll wake up and it will all have been a dream.

"I'm not _trying_ to scare you, but I know I am." His hand cups her jaw, his thumb stroking warm along her cheek. He wonders if she knows how scared she looks, he can see it in her eyes, even if no one else ever can. He thinks about the thousands of times he has wanted her over the years.

His hand lifts hers and he kisses each fingertip, recalling how they dance over the keys of her computer, how they grip the handle of her gun, how they push back her hair in frustration and how they wrap around her cup of coffee when she's cold. He has spent a good deal of his time watching her hands move through a thousand different tasks and thought equally as many times about how they would feel on him.

"Don't be afraid Liv." He whispers the words against her palm, sending them through her skin and into her body, hoping they'll bypass her thoughts and become part of her truth. He presses his lips against her palm, his tongue running a small circular pattern on her skin, moving down to the delicate patch on the inside of her wrist.

"I told you, I'm not afraid of you." Her voice is clear and sure and he knows what she's trying to tell him. She has never been afraid of him, not when he was trembling with rage and lashing out blindly at the world and not when he puffed up his chest and balled his fists and became a muscled wall of intimidating flesh. She was the one person that has never been afraid of him. He glances with guilt at his knuckles and thinks of the wet clothes spattered with blood lying in his tub.

"No, but you're certainly afraid of us." He feels her stiffen next to him, her hand tightening in his grasp. "You said we never talk about us so I thought maybe it's time we do." He tries to smile, to make it light between them but eight years of history is heavy and the weight is still pressing.

He brushes his lips across her knuckles and his warm breath blows down the back of her hand.

"Now?" He slips his mouth over her index finger, his tongue holding it gently against the roof of his mouth. "After all these years you want to talk about us _now_?" Her voice has drops as he sucks softly on her finger, she feels a corresponding tug deep between her legs and blinks slowly.

He releases her finger, "I want to talk about you being afraid. I know you Liv, if you're afraid as soon as the light of day dawns on us you'll hit the ground running. You'll have this torn apart before your first cup of coffee." He watches the hurt flicker across her features followed closely by acceptance because she knows what he said is true. "I can't let you walk away, not now, not after this. You can't walk away again. Do you understand? Never again."

There is an edge to him now and even in the dim light she thinks she can see the glimmer on the sharp blade of those words. If she lets go of them, they'll slice right through her. Does she understand? Fuck yes she understands. No more leaving. The problem is that she doesn't know how to do anything else. She closes her eyes, squeezing them shut wondering what it feels like to stay.

"Liv." She opens her eyes and kisses him, hoping to trap his voice within her, hoping to become the woman he thinks she is when he says her name like that. She wants him to say it again so she can swallow the sound of it, absorb it, become it. Her tongue sweeps through his mouth, soaking up his words and seeking his desire. Her hand moves around his neck, cupping the back of his head and holding him against her while she slides her thigh up between his legs. His dick hardens against her and she pushes his shoulders back until he is lying flat on his back. She breaks from the kiss and straddles him, sitting up tall and pinning his cock against his belly with the thickness of it pressing between her lips. She looks down and touches the smooth head of him sticking out and his hips jerk slightly beneath her.

"Liv, no more leaving. I want to hear you say it." His words seem to float up to her and out into the room. He's mesmerized by the look of her, the smooth expanse of her skin so flawless it looks liquid when she moves. The round weight of her breasts sway slightly as she leans forward and his hands cup them as his mouth reaches for the line of her neck. As he tugs rhythmically on her nipples he feels his dick growing wetter from her juices and his balls ache with the need to be inside her. He releases her breasts and his hands move around to her ass where he spreads his fingers wide and palms each of her cheeks. She leans forward onto his chest and lifts her hips, pushing up into his grasp. She is nibbling on his ear lobe as her hand reaches down and grasps his dick. He is slippery with her juice and she pumps her hand up and down him as she holds him up and rubs the head of him into her opening. His hands squeeze her ass, his fingers sinking into her flesh.

He feels her voice vibrate against his ear as she whispers, "no more leaving El." Before he can think she pushes herself down over his thick shaft, letting her weight drive him into her depths as his hands rub her against his hips. He cries out and feels her teeth sink into his shoulder as she moans out an acceptance of him. She pauses, "I promise." She tightens her abdominal muscles and pulls her thighs as she clenches her muscles and lifts back up the length of him and then sinks rapidly back down. She repeats the action as he gasps deeply. _Jesus Christ she's fucking me._ He looses his ability to think coherently as she rises and drops harder this time, and again, and again, and again. His hands hold her against him as he grinds into her, pushing against her center as her tight walls constrict around him. She's hot, and so wet that he feels the moisture trickle around his balls. He isn't going to last long now. As if hearing his thoughts she begins to pump her hips above him. He looks over her shoulder as the muscles in her long back flex with the rise and fall of her ass. Her breathing comes in short pants now and she is moaning as she moves. She pulls her knees in a little closer and starts slamming against him, the sound of them wet and slapping making his balls tighten in anticipation. His head pushes back into the pillow, he slides his hand around to the front of her and makes a fist, pushing it between them until his knuckle fits between the top of her lips and her clit strikes against it. She cries out to him, his name ripping from her lungs while she rocks against his hand, and drops hard over his dick. He moves his other hand to the center of her ass, his finger tips rimming her anus as he presses her down and his orgasm begins to erupt. Her body surges as hers rips through her, hammering her against his pelvic so she can feel bones pressing back. She grinds her clit over his slippery fist, riding him hard through the waves convulsing around his cock. She keeps rocking, her whole body milking him with her movements, pulling at his cock in strong rhythmic strokes that break into tremors as they move down her limbs until after a few moments she begins to slow. She gradually comes to a stop and rests her full weight on him, breathing hard, her pussy throbbing around him, her entire pelvic bone sore and both of them soaking wet.

She clenches so she can squeeze him inside her and smiles. She loves how he fills her, like her body is two sizes too small. Even now when he's soft she likes the sensation of having him inside her. She promised him she wouldn't leave him anymore, purposely waiting for that moment when she would promise him anything so she could scrape the words from inside her without resistance. Despite all that, saying them would be the easy part, actually living them would be the challenge.

He's stroking a hand through her hair, his breathing finally beginning to sound somewhat regular.

"Liv…" Her fingers fly to his lips and press against them.

"No Elliot, no more serious talk right now. I don't have the energy to distract you at the moment. I'm starving and we're both in need of a shower, so we have to get up for a while, after that we can talk. Just not now." She's already thinking that after food and a shower she doubts they'll be talking and eventually they will have to sleep but for now, one thing at a time.

"Okay, what do you want to get to eat?"

"Are you kidding? I've been gone; I want a New York Pizza, extra large with onions, green pepper, tomato and mushroom. Oregon pizza sucks, those people have no idea how to make a decent pizza or a good sauce. It was torture. Not to mention the towns there all roll up the sidewalks by eleven at night so if you want something to eat after that you're just shit out of luck. I had to come back; I eat half my meals in the middle of the night so I was starving out there." He's grinning from ear to ear.

"You can take the girl out of Manhattan but you can't take the Manhattan out of the girl." She's laughing now and climbing from the bed.

"I'll call Sal's and order but as much as I hate to have you do it, you better pull some pants on because one of us is going to have to answer the door when it comes." Standing now she pulls her NYPD t-shirt back over her head and bends to kiss him on the fore head. "Come on." He's comforted by the sight of her in the NY shirt, hell he's comforted by the sight of her period, so without pause he pulls on his jeans and trails after her.

As he follows her down the hall a tingling sensation blooms in his chest and he thinks about how it feels to know that now, he would follow her anywhere.


	5. Chapter 5

Undercover Days Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Not mine but I so enjoy my time with them.

**Warning: Rated M, sexually explicit adult material. Tasteful, but still adult.**

A/R: Wow, I have had a rough few weeks and this chapter really took a lot out of me, I'm not even entirely sure why…I'll save self analysis for another day. I really hope you all enjoy it, thanks so much for reading. I'm very grateful to have interested readers out there so this is dedicated to the dedicated…read on.

Olivia walks to the living room and picks up the phone, cursing she sets it back down. Her home phone is still not working so she heads back to the bedroom to search for the cell phone. Elliot is sitting on the side of her bed, naked and staring at nothing in particular, holding the jeans he came back to put on. The sight surprises her even though she just left him there, it's still a shock to walk into her room and actually see him sitting on her bed. She walks over and pulls back the bed covers, looking around at the floor.

"Did you lose something?" He has a smirk on his face because a dozen dirty answers to that question run through his head even as he asks her.

"Yes as a matter of fact, I'm looking for my cell phone." While she's intently moving the blankets around he hands it to her and she stops suddenly wondering how he ended up with it. At seeing her questioning expression he automatically answers her unspoken words.

"I found it in the bed down by my feet. Care to explain or should I just assume you put it on vibrate and kept calling yourself." He's chuckling and she's blushing but beyond the sexual response there is another reaction that he can't quite understand. Something in her expression is off. She reaches to her nightstand, right next to where he's sitting and jerks open the top drawer, bumping him on the side of his knee.

"I don't need to put my phone on vibrate, I have that covered." She turns and walks away, leaving him staring into a drawer that has various vibrators in different shapes and sizes, piled inside. His dick stirs but does not fully wake although there's a deep tug within his balls. He inventories them with his eyes, knowing he will need their exact size and shape for the fantasies he will later create. He can hear her on the phone in the other room and considers joining her but as he sits there he imagines her sliding the fat bright pink one into her body. He wants to touch it, to know the texture of it in his hand but it feels oddly personal to him. Despite all their activity and the dull ache, his dick hardens, lifts its head and stiffens as the fantasy intensifies and she begins to thrust the vibrator deeply inside her, lifting her hips from the bed with each penetration. He is unaware of the small moan that comes from him and equally unaware that she has walked back into the room. Smiling and shaking her head she walks over and shuts the drawer and his head snaps up, having caught her in his peripheral vision much too late not to be busted fantasizing.

"Snap out of it, certainly you've seen one before?" He doesn't miss a beat.

"Not one that I know has been inside of you." His eyes turn up to her and she can see the flicker of desire dancing within the blue depths. "Why so many?"

"Different moods I guess. Come on, the pizza will be here before we know it." She is trying to redirect him, to lure him into the kitchen before he lures her back to bed. She only opened the drawer to divert his attention from the phone because she didn't want him to follow that line of questioning, she didn't want to talk about his messages, not now. She turns and walks to the door, pausing to make sure he's getting up to follow, her eyes dropping to his cock, stiff and heavy. She arches her one brow and looks at him.

"Hey, you're the one that opened the drawer. By the way, which one's your favorite?" She laughs as she strolls to the kitchen, amazed by his body's response and a little frightened by the tug she feels between her legs when she looks at it. He steps into his jeans and continues after her.

"I'm not telling you." She opens the fridge, bending in search of something to drink and he watches her t-shirt lift just enough to expose the lower curve of her ass where it turns into the delicate flesh at the very top of her leg. He wants to run his fingertips along this line of her and is about to reach when she moves. His jeans are not fastened and they feel too tight on him, he scolds himself for not wearing sweats. She pulls two waters off the shelf, closing the door, handing him one and opening her own. When she looks up, he's staring at her. "What?" She takes a long draw from the water bottle and he watches her neck work as she swallows and wonders if he can get any harder.

"Why? Why won't you tell me which is your favorite?" He actually looks like he's pouting and she bursts out laughing.

"Because you don't need to know." She reaches up into the cupboard to grab plates and there's her ass again, just a little more of it this time. She tilts slightly forward as she stretches just a bit to reach the shelf and he can see her dark curls and the beginning of her lips. Forget the touching, he wants to fuck her now. Hard. From behind, just like she is, up against the counter. He goes back to the conversation although it isn't safer ground.

"I do need to know, so when I'm at home masturbating I know which one to picture in your hand." _Damn him._ She feels her arousal ooze moisture in her tender pussy and she squeezes her thighs. She takes another long drink of her water but despite how cold it is the heat within her skin continues to smolder.

"When you leave here you won't have the energy to masturbate." She can't look at him when she talks like this because although the rhythm of the banter is the same the content is _so_ different than it used to be. Elliot just casually mentioned that he would be masturbating to images of her with her vibrator. Elliot. She is discussing masturbation with Elliot and they are half dressed and waiting for a pizza so they can eat and go have more sex. More sex with Elliot. A throb pulses between her legs at the thought. _Jesus Christ_. She turns from him and busies herself getting napkins and forks. She's just about done with her water so she pulls two beers from the fridge and sets them on the counter, sliding one over and opening hers.

She's about to take a nice long drink when she feels him behind her, close behind her. His fingers barely graze her skin as he sweeps her hair aside, off her neck. His lips dance on her skin, heating a path to her shoulder as her fingers grip the counter for support. He pulls his teeth across a spot on the side of her neck and her shoulder rises against the chill it brings as she moans softly. His other hand is at the hem of her shirt, she feels it lift as his hand moves underneath. He cups the cheek of her ass and it tightens under his touch. He runs the pads of his fingers across that spot at the top of her leg, the soft crease that curves and disappears in her center. He brushes the short soft curls and sighs softly as he feels her lift and push back toward his hand.

"Do you have any idea how fucking sexy it is when your body reaches for me like that?" His voice is a hot burst against her neck and she closes her eyes as she tilts her hips a little more and pushes back until she feels just the tip of his finger slide in the back of her slit. It's the only answer she has for him because her words are failing completely, washed away in the wave of arousal, and carried off in her own juices. He slides his hand back and smoothes it up and over the round curve of her to the dip at the base of her back. Both of his hands have slipped beneath her shirt now and he's massaging and squeezing her cheeks in his hands, down to the flesh at the top of her thighs and back up to the first hint of a curve at her lower back. The cool air caressing her backside around his searing touch runs a chill up her spine and she arches into it. He slides his hands around her hips to her belly and she backs into the space, rubbing her ass against his abdomen and over his erection. The deep moan that vibrates from his chest causes her womb to contract and she grinds back into him. Her hand covers his, her long fingers fitting between his thick ones as she pulls them down between her thighs. Together their fingers dip into her hot folds, the moisture coating them, flooding the space around them. She feels his other hand release her hip and the sound of the zipper he only had half way done anyhow. She rocks back in anticipation and whimpers with need as she feels the head of him brush the back of her thighs just as the door buzzer rips through the room.

"_Fuck!"_ His shock and frustration bounce off of the walls and as if on cue her stomach growls as their hands pull away. She squeezes her eyes shut and then as he stumbles back away from her she jumps to the second buzz and bursts out laughing. All that emotion has to go somewhere and she takes several strides to the intercom with her arm across her stomach in hunger and hysterics. She hits the button to unlock the building doors and watches him try to zip around his unforgiving cock with a glint of pre-come glistening on the tip. She puts her hand on his wrist stopping his actions.

"Stop, you're going to hurt yourself. I'll grab my robe and get the door." Her laughter and smile are so engaging he's immediately caught up in them and standing there with his dick waving in the wind, he's immobilized by her beauty. As she jogs down the hall with her laughter trailing behind, her shirt flaps and he catches a glimpse of what he missed. The sight makes his dick ache but the realization that in eight years he has rarely heard that infectious laughter makes his chest ache even more. She breezes back by him, tossing a grey pair of shorts in his direction as the knock sounds on the door, his expression flickers around several emotions and she throws him a questioning look as she reaches for the door.

"Unless you want to be a flasher you might want to duck into the other room for a minute. There's a pair of shorts that I think would be more comfortable if you want to where them." She's grinning again now and pointedly glancing down at his cock which has shifted forward and seems to be aimed directly at her. His smile finally settles as he looks down and thinks that his dick has become a sexual divining rod seeking the sexually divine and he knows there is no one more sexually divine than Olivia. An old bar phrase always comes back to him when he thinks of her this way; _she could give a dead man a hard on._ The knock on the door is louder this time and he hurries down the hall as she turns to answer it.

He's standing in her bedroom, pushing his jeans down his thighs wondering how he ended up in this moment when he had come to her apartment to lie in her bed and ease the ache of missing her. He looks at his hands, he has been ignoring the twinges of pain in them, the color between his knuckles is slowly darkening and he suspects that by morning they're going to look pretty intense. He pulls on the shorts she gave him and realizes as they come over his hips that they're actually his. He doesn't recall a moment when she would have ended up with them and he can't really remember when he lost them. He tucks his cock against his body feeling far more comfortable now even though his erection is still obvious. The scent of the pizza has made its way back to him and he heads out to the kitchen with his stomach rumbling. She has set everything on the table and is seating herself as he stops to wash his hands at the sink. He turns just as she opens the box and is taking a deep breath with her eyes closed; it looks amazingly sexual to him. Of course, everything involving her looks amazingly sexual to him now. Now? Who is he kidding? There have been plenty of days he couldn't even look at her without his dick responding.

"Next time maybe we should order from somewhere a little further away." She starts laughing then because she knows what would have happened if they had just a few more minutes. With his words and the look in his eyes the lingering moisture between her legs heats back up.

"This is the best pizza in the area and you know it. Normally we're very appreciative that they're only two blocks away."

"Yeah but _normally_ I'm thinking about a different hunger than I was a mere five minutes ago." His eyes are absolutely twinkling with the mischievous tone of his conversation and his smile is so sexy she is tempted to abandon the pizza and continue where they left off.

"We have to stop and eat El, I'm not ready to stop and think but we do need food." Her honest admission seems to sober them both just a notch. She tears the pieces off the pizza and starts dropping them on their plates. She lifts hers and takes a large bite, moaning as she chews.

"I've eaten a lot of pizzas with you Liv, I don't ever remember you sounding like that when you ate one." She just grins at him and intentionally moans as she takes another bite. "I already have a hard on and blue balls are you trying to kill me?" She almost chokes on the pizza and the laugh and he is once again smiling like a fool while he attacks his own piece. It's right at that moment that she notices and her expression shifts to concern. She takes another bite and sets her pizza down; grasping his hand she brings it closer so she can look more carefully. She tips it back and forth in the light, pressing here and there with her thumb and noting when she feels him tense from the pain.

"What happened here El, this looks fresh."

In his work monotone he responds quickly, "I accidentally closed it in a door." Her eyes flick to the other hand and her brow raises.

"Both of them?" She picks up her pizza as a smirk tugs at his mouth.

"Yeah, I'm quite the klutz." He's looking right at her now, waiting for detective Benson to completely surface.

"Funny but you have more coordination than you do honesty at the moment, now what happened? Is there a perp out there with a body part that matches that nice shade of purple?" He raises his brows this time, knowing that she's trying to gauge the seriousness of the event. His alter boy conscience sounds in his head with a squeaky preteen sound, reminding him of that deal he made with god just after bruising his hands.

He sighs heavily and she watches the muscles in his jaw and neck move as he chews and swallows. She wants to climb onto his lap and kiss him there, opening her lips and pressing her tongue against each dip as the muscles move beneath her. Her eyes flick back up and he's staring at her and she knows she's been busted so she just smiles at him, waiting. She lifts her pizza and stares at him and he knows she could wait all night, detective Benson has returned.

"No, no perp, just some tile in my bathroom that needed adjusting." He has a look on his face and she knows he doesn't want her to keep asking. She says nothing, just sits and eats, occasionally taking a drink from her beer. "I was just having a bad day Liv, until I came here it was just a really bad day."

She doesn't look at him, "a difficult case?" She wants him to answer, this is the old them, the dysfunctional them and she needs them to be different, at the very least she needs them to be past this.

"Liv, it's just…no, it wasn't a bad case." He looks away and then a cold feeling grips her stomach because if it's not work then it's something with his family, or the other woman, the _temporary partner._ The panic rushes through her and her throat tightens. She should have taken the time to talk to him before all this happened. She really has no idea what's going on in his life. He could have come from a fight with Kathy or Dani or some woman she doesn't even know. Her stomach rolls. She's a fool to have let it go this far. He's used to a different kind of woman, the kind that knows how to throw a dinner party, how to set a table with the good linens, to make a home, how to greet a husband. She is none of these things; she doesn't even know the difference between good and bad linens. She presses her palm against the smooth cool wood of her naked table, knowing she doesn't own any linens herself and until this very moment hasn't cared.

She lets herself wonder for one second what kind of woman Dani Beck is and then is immediately angry. She hates her even though she shouldn't, she does, intensely. She knows why too, because she got to be that woman with Elliot, the new partner like Olivia was a million years ago. Only when Olivia did it he was married and Dani got to have that time with him as a single man, getting to know him, chatting over coffee during a steak out, watching that grin spread across his face when he knows he has the perp. She got to sit in the car filled with the scent of him and hear his warm voice relay the highlights of the hockey game while he ate her egg roll from their favorite Chinese restaurant. Bitch. She got to sit in the interrogation room with him and watch him work with his testosterone at full throttle and not worry about his wife, his kids, his conscience, his religion or the damnation of his eternal soul. All she had to think about was whether or not he had a hard on and whether or not she wanted to fuck him. Fucking bitch. She got to choose whether or not she loved him. Yep, Olivia hates her.

He sees the look on her face and knows something has gone terribly wrong.

"Liv, whatever you're thinking, you're wrong. Look I didn't want to get into this right now because it was you, you were the cause of my bad day." He drops his head and sucks a hard breath into his lungs. "It had been so long since I heard from you and no one could tell me anything, and I just missed you so much. I started to think I was seeing you on the street. I followed some poor woman that I thought for a moment was you. I just couldn't accept that you were gone, that you might not be back." He pauses for a moment, trying to gather the words to tell her, to confess. "I wouldn't think about it, I'd push the idea that you had left as far down inside as I could. When Dani was sitting in your desk I wouldn't look at her so I could pretend it was you. It never worked, she didn't have your scent and even in my peripheral vision her posture and shape were all wrong. I spent every day trying to keep the truth of your absence from crawling inside me and becoming real. You were out sick, getting lunch, running late, in court on a case…anything but gone." Tears threatening to fall hover in his eyes so when he closes them a few slide down his cheeks and she desperately wants to reach out to him but she knows he needs to finish.

He leaves his eyes closed as he continues, "today when I caught up to the woman that was SO not you and she turned around, it broke the spell and I couldn't pretend any more so I headed home in this blind rage. I don't even remember much except that I took a taxi, got home, climbed fully clothed into a freezing shower and just came undone." His voice is a rough whisper and his hand has curled into a tight fist on the table as he finishes. "I didn't know I could feel like that and not die from it." His entire body is tense, the definition in his muscles deepening as he stiffens. In that moment she can see him, filled with pain, his body red with the rush of anger and adrenaline as he beats the wall, trying to crush the raging emotions, replacing them with physical pain. She knows him like this, understands him and is suddenly inside his head more intensely than when they were in bed. If she had lost him in the way that he thought he had lost her, she would be destroyed. She can not stop the tears that trickle down her face but she isn't crying because of how she knows he feels, she's crying because she knows she's the one that made him feel that way. So much for not stopping to think.

She picks up his hand and pries it open; her touch causes him to relax some. She lifts his hand; placing her lips over each knuckle she kisses them ever so gently. His eyes are still closed and she gets up and slips her leg over his lap, pulling him against her. She holds him tightly, letting the single sob that escapes him soak into her skin. She feels him tremble against her and he tightens his grip as though he can't hold her close enough and she squeezes him back because she wants him to know that she's here. She has never seen this kind of emotion from him but she's grateful he let this much go, even as she feels him reeling it back in, because she knows this grief belongs to her. She has always wanted to be this for him, the place that he can release those emotions that get too big and threaten to destroy him, for years she has fought the urge to sooth him. She strokes the back of his head, the tears still streaming down her face long after he has stilled. His arms loosen their hold on her so she too lets go and leans back to look at him. He attempts a smile but it's only a lopsided beginning.

"Your pizza's getting cold and your beer is getting warm. That's a lousy combination." She manages a small smile as he reaches up and wipes the damp tracks from her cheeks.

"That's okay because you're going to warm up my pizza and get me another beer while I go wash my face." She loves that he has taken them back to where they're comfortable in one sentence but what's been happening between them makes her think that they may be able to handle the emotions even if they still have to learn the conversations that go with them. It's a step in the right direction but she sighs deeply as the voice in her heads reminds her that it's still a long way from knowing how to be in a relationship, it's still a long way from knowing how to stay. She slides off his lap and feels him squeeze her ass as she steps away.

"Hey, all puns intended did you just try to cop a feel?" She tries to sound stern but fails miserably.

"Yeah and if you'd just stay still, I'd do it again." His grin has returned and she high steps out of his sweeping reach and disappears around the corner.

He drains both of their beer bottles and then does as he was told, reheating the pizza and getting them both a cold one. He's chuckling as she returns to the room, obviously entertaining himself.

"Keeping your self amused in my absence I see." She slides gracefully back into her chair as he sets the hot pizza in front of her.

"This is what my kids call a do-over, when you get to start from the beginning again."

"Well, let's see, where was I? Oh yeah, I was just enjoying my first bites of New York pizza in months." She closes her eyes and brings the pizza to her lips moaning softly as she sinks her teeth into it. She pulls it away slowly, letting the cheese stretch and snap so she can dart her tongue out to catch it. She chews carefully, enjoying every bit of flavor before licking her lips and opening her eyes.

"Liv, now I'm going to get a hard on every time I see a pizza." She starts laughing again and he thinks he may be addicted to the sound of it. Despite the light atmosphere he can feel the need sparking between them.

"Really? Maybe I'll start eating pizza everyday."

"Believe me Olivia, you don't need any props, you're devastatingly sexy without the pizza." He can't believe the things that he's saying, he's thought them a million times but saying them feels strange to him and yet he can't seem to stop, doesn't want to stop. He can see a little color rise in her cheeks at this last statement and she grows quiet as she eats. Compliments always slow her down and he knows that but there are so many things he has suppressed that he always wanted to say and now, well, now he's not suppressing anymore. They eat in a comfortable silence. When she feels strong again, like she can speak without the threat of tears she decides to ask a few questions. She can't let this night continue without knowing some things, it's too important to assume. She has to hear him. She sucks down the last of her beer, wishing suddenly that it was something much stronger. She get the last two from the fridge and sits back down as she hands him his and he nods his appreciation. He feels the change in her mood and waits to see where she's going.

"El, I have to ask you a couple of questions and well, I should have done it before but…but I didn't and that was a mistake, potentially a very costly mistake. So…" She sucks in as much air as her lungs can hold, her gaze crawling up his body as she begins to speak again. "Would we be here if Dani, or Kathy for that matter, had wanted you enough to fight for you?" The fear is like a living thing sitting between them, more attached to her than her own shadow, slowly sucking the oxygen from the room. Her skin feels unnaturally dry and her palms unnaturally moist. She thinks it feels like those dreams in which she steps off the roof of a New York skyscraper. She's falling fast, growing heavier by the second as gravity increases its hold on her. She wants to wake up before she hits the ground and dies or she wants to suddenly be able to fly. She stares into the blue of his eyes, a vast horizon that makes her should blades suddenly ache for the growth of wings. She always thought those dreams were about suicide but maybe they were about choices. She feels the hand of fear stroke her cheek, bringing her back to the moment as he finally begins to answer her.

Elliot freezes because although he couldn't voice exactly what he thought she might ask; this was no where on the list of possibilities. It's clear to him that she doesn't understand what happened with Dani but even clearer that she thinks she's some kind of consolation prize. He shakes his head in disbelief.

"Liv, Dani was never a real possibility because all I ever wanted from her was for her to be you. There was no 'Dani and I', there was only the woman I wanted to be you. It was wrong of me and unfair to her. She couldn't do our job because she couldn't deal with the victims, she couldn't live with not being able to fix them. She was a strong woman and special victims broke her in less than two months. It made me think of you differently, of how much it must have taken for you to show up for this job everyday for eight years, of how you reach out to the victims on the worst day of their life and get them to trust you so you can get them help. I never really thought about what it would feel like to be a woman and be in this field, not really. If I had to face men that were raped and beaten everyday, if I had to be reminded of my own vulnerability and still come up strong every day, I couldn't do this job. I don't know how you do it. The point is, I didn't walk away from a relationship with Dani and _end up_ with you." He sounds a little angry in that last sentence and she winces, just slightly, the feeling of the freefall continues and she arches her back a little as she prepares for the impact she's sure is coming. He takes a long drink of his beer, pulling a good third of the bottle before setting it down. He's pretty sure he's never been this thirsty in his entire life.

"As for Kathy, I'll always be tied to her because she's the mother of my children but I don't want to be with her. I thought I should go back because I thought I should keep my promise and fulfill my obligations as a father and a husband but I can see now that a peaceful marriage for the wrong reasons is just as damaging as a violent marriage for the right reasons. In the end I knew it was the healthy thing for all of us, the best thing for all of us so even if Kathy wanted to fight for a relationship it wouldn't matter. I can be a father without being her husband." He pauses and her voice is small in the room.

"That's just it El, you're a father and a husband and I'm uncomfortable after a third date. What do you want with me?"

"A life, Olivia. I want a life with you. Our life, whatever we decide to make it, not a replacement for Kathy or plan B after Dani. You. I want you. I've wanted you for so long and I never thought I'd get this chance, I just accepted that part of my life would always involve wanting you." She blinks slowly; his words are coming fast but the more he talks the stronger the sensation of slowing down. She lets him take her hand, resting it on the table. "I don't know what life with you will be like but having seen life without you I'm sure of one thing, that's unacceptable. I need you in my life. Do you understand? In my eyes, there's only you."

Olivia is very still because her feelings are so ambiguous she's afraid if she moves she'll just split apart. If she's honest with herself, these are words that a part of her has always wanted to hear from him but they also give her nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. She has always loved the idea of a relationship with him but the reality is something that takes her breath away. She finds herself immersed in contradictions, feeling both safe and terrified when she's with him. She tries to remember how she felt during those undercover days when she passed the time thinking about the details of the life they could have together. The leisurely atmosphere of those thoughts escapes her now and she flexes her shoulders against the tension gathering there. She drags her fingertips over the subtle changes in the wood grain of the table, noting the lines of graduating color as though they hold some great importance, some secret truth that she needs to read there.

"How do you expect this to work Elliot? We're partners and even if we weren't, I have no point of reference for how to have a relationship. Think about it, I have never done this successfully. What are the odds that this will work and not destroy who we already are to each other? That's a price I can't afford to pay."

"Hey, slow down, since when do we have to have all the answers today? We can do this the way we do everything, we'll take it as it comes and figure it out together. We're great partners, why wouldn't we be great partners in this? You may not have been successful in a relationship with other men but we've managed eight years through some very difficult times and we're still together. That means you've had an eight year successful relationship already. Now you just get to have sex too." He wants to keep a straight face but the wicked grin that matches his thoughts appears.

"I can't lose you Elliot." He feels the root of her words burrow deeply into him and take hold and he nods.

"I know Liv, I can't lose you either but we have the power to keep that from happening. We won't let it happen. _I_ won't let it happen. I promise." It's a foolish promise and she knows it, some things he can't control no matter how much he'd like to.

"Don't make promises you can't keep Elliot, it's dangerous." They're teeter tottering between playful and painfully serious to ease the conversation but she wants to be sure that despite the playful, he feels the weight of the serious.

"I said I promise and I mean it. What do I have to do to prove it to you?" His look is all sex now and he may as well have put his hand between her legs and stroked her.

"Now you're just trying to get into my pants." Her eyes have grown heavy with desire and he shifts in his chair as his penis tightens.

"You're not wearing any." Her face colors just slightly and the urge to be inside her pounding out his need for her wells up inside him with surprising force. She tips her beer, letting the rest of the cold liquid slide down her throat in an effort to cool herself off. It doesn't work, even as she sets the empty back on the table she can feel the hot pulse between her legs, a heartbeat of desire throbbing deep in her pussy.

She gets up and walks across the small kitchen, a breathy 'follow me' blows in his direction as she passes and he's immediately on his feet, trailing behind her. She walks into the bathroom and turns on the shower but before she can turn his arms snake around her waist and pull her against him. She feels his cock as it presses against her and the solid wall of his chest as she leans into him. His shorts are gone, he must have peeled them off as he stepped into the room. He lifts her shirt over her head and his lips seek her neck with hunger, his mouth open and moving over the tender spot still marked by his earlier attention. She moans a response as his hands move, his thumb and middle fingers grasp her nipple while his index finger strokes continuously across the tight bud. His other hand is already between her legs, his fingers plunging into her as though they have always been inside her and her muscles clench, holding on and pulling him deeper. Her leg starts to tremble and her knees grow weak as the multiple sensations rob her of any focus. She should be embarrassed at how her body arches unashamed into his touch, how her hips rock forward to take more of him and then push back eagerly against his waiting cock, how her head falls to the side as purring sounds of need encourage his every move. He walks her forward, nudging the back of her knee with his own so she steps one leg into the tub. He takes advantage of her spread legs and adds a third finger, pumping in a sudden burst. She cries out and reaches to the tile wall for support. He pauses and steps into the water, pulling her with him. Once they are both standing in the stream she feels his fingers leave her, his palm cupping her hip as he steadies them both.

She turns in his arms, facing him she pulls his mouth to hers and tastes him, moaning and deepening the kiss.

"Hmmm, pizza and beer, you taste good." She is smiling at him, a look he has never seen on her face before today but that stirs so many feelings in him. He reaches for the shampoo and starts doing her hair, massaging his fingers into her scalp, down her neck and shoulders, cleaning her body with gentle foaming strokes. The personal attention makes her just a little uncomfortable even from him. She's not used to allowing anyone this kind of access to her, the intimacy still leaves her feeling so exposed. She closes her eyes as his hands move over her, letting the feeling of him soak into her, maybe by some form of osmosis she can make his nearness less frightening.

His voice is a caress along her neck, the sound of it making her nipples harden even more. "I've wanted to touch you for so long, imagined a thousand times how good you would feel under my hands and I wasn't even close. I still can't believe I'm here with you, like this." How he so often knows exactly what she needs to hear will always be a mystery to her. He's tipping her head as he rinses the soap; her hands linger on his chest, caught between pushing him away and sliding around his neck to pull him closer. She opens her eyes, appreciating his disbelief in being with her. She soaps her hands and smoothes them over the front of him, her palms flat and pressing over each firm muscle as she lathers his body. This feels very surreal to her, having someone in the shower with her is new and then there's the fact it's Elliot. Hmmm, it's Elliot. She would like to be just a woman for a little while, not Olivia Benson, not a detective or partner but just a woman, specifically, his woman, in that primitive possessive caveman 'let's duck into a cave and fuck' kind of way.

"What are you thinking about right now Olivia?" She realizes as she hears his voice that she has been transfixed on his chest, her hands moving in a repetitive pattern over him. She knows she's blushing and there isn't a chance in hell she's going to tell him what she was thinking. She reaches down and soaps his bobbing cock, her grasp is firm and steady along his length. He groans, his eyes fluttering once before closing as she tightens her fist around him. She feels him harden until there is no give to the flesh beneath her fingers at all. He turns with her, letting the water rinse them as he pushes her against the wall. His mouth covers her nipple and he sucks hard, pulling his teeth against her, searching for her threshold and finding a guttural cry of arousal instead.

The water has run cold and with his long reach he shuts it off then grasping her under her ass he lifts her. She grabs him around his neck, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist as he leans slightly.

"EL!" The panic is evident in her voice as she throws out a hand to the wall to steady them. In the throws of passion he has hoisted her high so his face is tucked against her breasts as the low rumble from a chuckle vibrates into her.

"I've got you Liv." She pulls back the curtain and he steps carefully out of the tub.

She kisses the top of his forehead, "wouldn't it be easier if I just walked?"

He walks the few steps to the counter and perches on the edge of it. His hand slides from her cheek to between her legs, spreading her wet folds and pushing past her walls as he set her down on his lap. She locks her hands behind his head and arches back, grinding her hips down onto him and moaning. Even though it isn't the first time she is still surprised at how he fills her, his thickness pressing her walls apart. She wants to move, to feel him moving within her but she has limited leverage here. She unhooks her feet from behind him and presses her toes against the wall behind him. Now she's in business and he knows it, he smiles, watching her dark eyes smolder and more grateful than ever that she's a woman who's determined to get what she wants. He leans back as she pushes up with her legs and lifts, he grabs her hips just to hold on to her. She sinks back slowly, letting her weight carry her. He groans deeply as she rises again, tightening around him. She pauses and kisses him softly, smiling as she leans back and starts a quick rhythm over him. As he leans he realizes he can see them in her wall mirror across the small room, he gasps at the sight of her, her long muscled back and perfect ass flexing gracefully with the rise and fall of her. His hands tighten on her hips, increasing the force of her movements. Her breasts sway in front of him, taunting, and it's too much for him, he knows he isn't going to last. He lets go of her hip and presses his thumb back and forth over her clit as she moves, she cries out and slams down against him, her muscles seizing around him when he suddenly explodes within her. She's riding over him, her whole body tight and arching into the waves that crash through her. Her hands are slick with sweat and he feels her grasp slipping and her thighs sliding along his. His name is echoing in the small room. He desperately needs to pump into her; his thighs are solid with the coiled urge. Their bodies are hot, their skin on fire with the heat trapped between them.

He lifts her from the hips, gently easing her off of him and setting her in front of him. "Stand for just a second baby, I'm going to cool you off." He pushes away from the counter and stands her in front of the sink, getting behind her he turns on the cold water. She braces her hands on each side of the sink as he reaches under her arm and splashes her chest, rubbing the cool water over her breasts. He doesn't wait at all, while she is still fluttering he is pushing into her again because he isn't done yet and they are already so high they are now headed somewhere they have never been and he can't stop. Images of her pulse in his brain; bending over the counter, pushing that fat pink dildo inside herself, naked on the table in the interrogation room, under him, on him. He calls to god and groans her name while he grips her hips tightly and pumps within her, a hot liquid running down her thighs as she cries out to him. Entering her from behind, he hits a sensitive place within her and her hips jerk as he strokes past the patch of pleasure nerves. She cups a handful of water and pours it down her back between them, trying to cool the fire. Her head drops forward and she pushes back into him, opening herself while her body cums and climbs higher with him. She feels like she's coming apart, rumbling from her innermost core. He is relentless against that tight spot within her, beating against it like the frantic rhythm of a drum as her body arches hard until they both fall screaming off the cliff again. His eyes squeeze shut and light bursts behind his lids as his body surges forward, exploding inside her, the pleasure cresting and rushing through him. She is pounding the counter, her body rising up and pushing into him as the waves flood through her, shattering over her and wracking her frame as though trying to break her. There are spots in her vision when she opens her eyes and she can't hear, so she closes them again and waits as her hips keep rocking against him. Her womb and pussy ache as muscles deep within her seize through the orgasms.

He knows nothing but the feel of her body squeezing his penis and her ass pushing into his belly. He is not aware of yelling or seeing or hearing, they were all drowned in the feeling of her. His balls hurt, not a little, a lot. They ache in a way that makes him want to wince and smile at the same time. This is the first thing he is aware of beyond the feeling of her body. He is still moving in small thrusts inside her, more of a comfort rocking than anything else. He's waiting for his senses to return so he can move. He reaches and turns off the water but it's her that causes him to move. She's chilled and trembling, her body still fighting for steady air. Her hands are curled into fists and he can see the goose bumps rising on her arms. He reaches over and grabs the stack of bath sheets, pulling them to the floor. He snaps one open and eases out of her, everything feels tender, her muscles twitch as he leaves her, pushing him out. He wraps the towel around her and feels the protest in his legs and groin as he steps back. His chest is still heaving for air when he bends and snags a second towel from the floor and pulls it around his waist.

He opens the door and looks at the distance to the bed, wondering if he has the strength to get them both there. She stands up straight and turns to him, clutching the towel and resting her forehead on his shoulder.

"It's okay, we just need to get to the bed." When she doesn't respond he lifts her face, her eyes are haunting with the intense vulnerability swimming in them. He squeezes her tightly against him and walks her to the bed; she lies down still wrapped in her towel. By the time he has gotten them water, turned off the lights and returned, she has crawled under the covers and pulls them back for him. He lies down and pulls her against him, holding her tightly, kissing her hair. Although his other senses have returned he somehow retains the feeling of his world being only her.

She closes her eyes as she pulls off the towel and nestles closer to him. She's thinking about these last minutes in which she has been aware of nothing but pleasure and she holds them up against all those moments in her life that she knew nothing but loneliness or pain. She understands now, in one crystal moment why people stay together, why they allow themselves, as terrifying as it is, to trust one person and to feel. It's because of this, these few moments in which everything else is stripped away and you feel enough for a lifetime.

Comments are always welcome and greatly appreciated, thanks for reading.


	6. Chapter 6

**Undercover Days Chapter 6**

A/N: Sorry for the delay, I was out of town and for those of you waiting for my Bones story updates, they're on the way. I'm typing as fast as I can! Thanks for reading, comments and suggestions are always appreciated.

**Warning: M Rating applies for sexual situations.**

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just play with them now and then.

Olivia stares into the darkness, a cold flush across her skin from the nightmare that jolts her awake. She stills, trying to fully orient herself. She isn't in Oregon anymore, she's home. She recognizes her room and her bed but it's Elliot's presence in it that causes her brain to falter. She waits until she's sure he's still sleeping before easing herself from his embrace. She moves silently, grabbing her heavy robe off the back of her door and heading into the living room. She stops for a bottle of water and curls up on the end of the sofa, pulling the green knit blanket off the back and tucking it around herself. She is slightly resentful that she can't bang around in her kitchen making tea as she often does when her sleep is so abruptly disturbed. Her skin crawls as she thinks of the visions that rambled through her sleeping brain. Her father above her in an alley, pinning her and pulling at her clothes. The scent of garbage, stale alcohol and exhaust were sharp in the air and the cold concrete bit into her back as he struggled to hold her in place. Her eyes move to the photo on her shelf of her and her mother, even in the dark she knows where it is and exactly how they both look in it. She doesn't need to see it to see it. She doesn't need the light to show her the faces in the photo look nothing alike. She fights the bile that rises in the back of her throat, trying to breathe deeply and swallow the acid burn as it recedes. Her fingers twist the end of her terrycloth belt, rolling the thick material aggressively.

It takes her a moment to focus and she closes her eyes as she takes a long drink of the cold water. This is a nightmare she's had before, one that she has actually discussed with a counselor. Years ago, after waking from the nightmare and unable to shake the feeling of him on top of her she had swallowed down three fingers of tequila and made the call. She still has the card in her wallet, worn and wrinkled from being held against her sweaty palm. She has handed out hundreds of them over the years, rape crisis referral numbers. She still remembers the feel of the raised print under her fingertips as she ran them over that card, debating, struggling. In the end she had been drawn to the anonymity of the phone and she had dialed.

She hated feeling needy and weak but Anne, the woman on the phone that night had helped her to understand that along the way she had assumed her mother's victim posture. She had learned to feel responsible for her mother's unhappiness, a constant reminder of the most horrifying moment of her life. Anne had stayed on the phone with her for hours slowly coaxing Olivia into talking it all out. There were things she said that night that were branded into her. The more she let her past rule her life the more powerful she made her father. Anne had asked her, if this was how she wanted history to be written, that on the day he raped her mother, her father had destroyed two lives instead of one. It was too late for her mother but it didn't have to be too late for her. The conversations had been difficult and she moved between anger and tears, frequently pausing while she contemplated just hanging up the phone. She had thrown a lifetime of excuses at that woman and had received a patient response to each one. Slowly as the night went on Anne had led her through the walls she had built within herself until Olivia had no where left to hide. She had felt better after that, for weeks she was quietly relieved and carried parts of the conversation around in her head, turning them over and slowly making them her own. Despite the occasional urge to call again, she had never done so but she had paid more attention to materials handed out at work and listened more intently at department seminars.

So why would she be having the dream now? Now, while Elliot sleeps soundly in her bed. The anger builds slowly within her, that the thought of her father would intrude on her good feelings, that the images of him touching her would collide with the sweet ache from Elliot's touch. She pulls her legs closer to her chest, the line in her brow furrows deeper as her brain tries to sort through the ideas and emotions. What was she supposed to think? That her father still possessed her? That she would always be his daughter, always have that darkness within her? That her past would always hold her down, be forced on her? Olivia freezes with this thought. Is her future destined to be a reflection of her past or can she change it? If she could believe, have hope for her future, actually allow herself to be happy it would be like taking something back from the man who raped her mother. Does she know how to have a relationship? She tries to think of successful marriages and comes up empty. Fuck. She tips her head forward, fighting a feeling of despair. She told Elliot she would stay. Is she breaking away from her past or just having a break down? She smiles a pained smile at the irony that she has to run from her past to be able to stay with him in her present. She lifts her head, drawing a deep breath, forcing her body to relax. She watches the shadows in a room she has occupied by herself for all the years that he has been her partner and wonders how it will change. Deep down she knows she would like for them to succeed but the mystery lies in the how. The entire domestic idea seems foreign to her and sorting it all out seems impossibly complicated.

The shift in light catches her attention and when she looks up, there is Elliot, sleepy and gloriously naked. The dim light plays over him and her breath catches. He strolls up to the sofa and it strikes her as surreal that he's wandering around her living room naked. He's all shadow and planes of muscle and she wishes she could hold this vision of him in her mind forever, take it out at will and lay her hand against him. She drags her gaze over him, soaking up every inch before bringing her eyes to his. Even by the dim glow of the city at night she can see the blue burning in his stare.

She squints in the darkness, trying to see him as though he belongs here in this intimate part of her life. She's so used to him in the outside world, they move as one on the streets, some version of a mythological beast with two heads feeding off of perps and occasionally baring their teeth at one another. At the end of the day they magically separate, stepping outside one another and heading off in different directions. Now here he is redefining how they become one, using their common rhythm to wind her desire up to a screaming pitch that threatens to break her. He's changing the nature of the beast.

"Trouble sleeping?" His voice sounds tired.

"Sleep was fine, dreams were lousy." For a second she thinks about not telling him but why shelter him if this is what he thinks he wants. She's up at night, often. He pulls the cushion from behind her and even as a protest leaves her lips he slips his shoulder and torso into the space so she is curled against him. She's not even sure how he did it. He pulls the blanket from under her hand and covers them both with it, tucking his arm around her waist and securing her. She stiffens for just a second; her complaint dancing on the tip of her tongue. She may think it's an intrusion on another night, but right now his presence is more comforting than annoying and this surprises her. Even though it's Elliot, the personal space in which she solves her problems and comforts herself has never included anyone else.

"Want to talk about it?" His voice is right at her ear now and his hot breath sends a chill running under her plush robe. The blanket covering them seems smaller to her as it rises and falls over the two of them. She wonders how long it will take before he stops feeling foreign in her life when he is so familiar in her head. Her life is linear, condensed, built around her wants and needs, there's no slack. Having him here is a tight fit, sometimes it feels good like the weight of extra covers on a night when the temperature has dropped below zero. Sometimes it feels like those blankets have been pulled over her head and she can't breathe.

"I don't know. I talked about it once before but there usually isn't anyone else here." She knows she isn't entirely making sense but doesn't care. It's the middle of the night in her apartment and there aren't any rules of etiquette here. In her head she hears her mother's voice _in my own house I can do as I damn well please. _Her mother had always done as she pleased whether she was in her house or not but Olivia never argued this point with her. The images from the night she first heard her mother utter those words blooms in her memory. Even back then she didn't sleep well, she would often get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom or just because she was awake. She could hear her mother before she could see her and the sickening heavy scent of perfume and alcohol wafted from the kitchen. Serena was singing softly, looking into the distance as though trying to remember the time and place of the tunes origin. She was in her white slip, the silky material bunched up at her thighs where her lengthy legs were crossed as she sat at the table in the dark with the half empty bottle and a glass in front of her. Olivia was eleven years old and she frequently stole glances at her mother's long slender legs as she grew into her own, trying to trace a similarity between them. Her mother was tapping a rhythm to her song on the worn yellow linoleum surface of the table, her fingers with their smooth polished tips arched as they moved, her hand resting just in front of the glass where she had loosened her grip to keep time. Light from the one small window struck the chrome trim bordering the table and illuminated a picture lying on the edge. Olivia remembers thinking that it could slide off at any second and flutter to the floor where it would rest near her mother's pale foot and brightly painted toenails. She had just finished this thought when she looked at the picture itself, it was an old black and white Polaroid of an infant; the dark eyes unmistakably her own.

Olivia had gasped and her mother turned her gaze in her direction, blinking slowly until her drunken focus fully registered Olivia's presence. Her mother's eyes were glassy and she squinted slightly, resembling an animal trying to decide what to do with prey that has just interrupted it's feeding.

"_In my own house I can do as I damn well please."_ Her voice was a hissing whisper in the dark and she delivered the phrase like she was responding to a demanding question. Even with her stare boring into her daughter, Olivia had the uneasy feeling that her mother was speaking to someone else. Olivia didn't move or speak and a moment later when her mother looked away and began humming while refilling her glass, she slipped soundlessly back to her room.

She feels Elliot's hand flex against her abdomen and her thoughts return to him. He sighs softly behind her and waits for her to give him some sign of what she needs from him right now. She said she had talked about it once before and he wonders who was in her living room in the middle of the night. He hopes it was her mother or a friend and not a man with whom she chose to share. Although he has no right to be jealous, no right to lay any claim on her at all, the hair on his neck still bristles when he thinks that she sat and shared those intimate parts of herself with another man. He wracks his brain trying to remember who she has seen for any real length of time. His stomach twists a little as he thinks about it but the truth slides across the surface of his brain even as he's trying to lock it out.

No one.

She dated some men for weeks and others for months but she never let them get close to her. They were all men that she _dated_; there was never any reference to a relationship. Even now, on the rare occasion when they would run into an ex of hers she always worded it carefully, _I went out with him for six months or so a few years back._ She has never been part of a couple. In a flash he understands her fear in a way he never has before. He never thought it through, never allowed himself to think of her with anyone else. He just couldn't do it. Now he realizes that her entire love life has been a testament to her fear. She has never been in an actual relationship and he wonders if she has ever even seen one. For her this is the ultimate act of faith, being asked to make herself vulnerable to something she hasn't seen. This is believing on a level akin to religion, giving yourself wholly and blindly to something you have no real proof exists. It must be like stepping off of a cliff with your eyes open in the bright light of day because rumor has it you can fly. Elliot knows he didn't take that leap; he tripped in the dark and fell. He ended up flying because he was already falling; there was no time to panic.

He wants to explain to her that he understands her fears but as he desperately searches for the words that will even begin to accurately encompass what he means she begins talking to him.

"Sometimes I have these nightmares about my father in which I'm his victim instead of my mother." Her voice is flat, the sentence coming from a recording in her head that she suddenly plays for him. It takes a moment before the images tied to her statement gather and he fights to remain perfectly still. If he stiffens or takes in a deep breath he knows she'll feel it and stop talking. "I want them to stop but I don't know how to make that happen." Her voice is scratchy as though these words have been battered by the long trip from her center.

"Do you feel like a victim?" As soon as the question leaves his mouth he wants it back. He feels her body tighten against him and fears for a moment that she is going to launch off of him and walk away. After a moment there is a heavy sigh from her and her shoulders sink as though deflated, defeated.

"I want to say no, automatically, just _no_ but part of me is tied to that idea because I always say that I'm a _product of my mother's rape. _What does that even mean beyond the physical aspect of it? A woman once told me that I had assumed my mothers victim posture. Incidental learning from your parent, some girls pick up a facial expression, the tilt of their hand while drinking tea or a particularly long stride. I learn her victim posture. It's just fucked up. I don't want to be a victim, his, hers or anyone else's. I don't want my life to be destroyed because of him. Who knows who my mother would have been if she hadn't been raped, if I hadn't been born." She sighs heavily against the effort of producing these truths for him. She eases back against him, grateful that he's sitting behind her where she doesn't have to look into his eyes. His look, with or without pity would be like a stage light burning too hot, following her every expression.

Behind her he takes shallow breaths as his heart twists in his chest at the thought of a world without Olivia in it. He wants to have sympathy for Serena Benson and when he thinks about the rape he does, for a moment. The feeling is short lived though because he knows her as Olivia's mother so the image of her as a victim quickly fades into the tormented alcoholic that emotionally, mentally and sometimes physically abused her daughter. The one thing that Elliot is sure of is that having a child changes you and Olivia's existence is testimony to the fact that some part of Serena still cared.

"You know Liv, maybe you weren't the reason your mother had so many drunken days, maybe you were the reason she had the sober ones." She has always assumed that her mother's alcoholism was tied to the rape trauma so it has rarely occurred to her that her mother may have been an alcoholic anyway. It has never occurred to her that her mother didn't want to drink more just from the sight of her. The idea shocks her and sooths her in the same stroke. She loves him so completely for offering her this thought that she is surprised by the force of it as it washes through her. It's quiet for a long time while they both sift through the thoughts they've been sharing. She's overwhelmed so she can't tell him now but she wants to remember that later she needs to let him know how much those words mean to her. There is an ambulance wailing in the distance screaming above the muffled sounds of Manhattan at night, as it fades he hears her whisper into the darkness.

"I want to be happy El, I do." She is hesitant as her hand slides under the cover and over his and squeezes before resting.

He blinks against the tears slipping over his cheeks, trying to catch his breath to suppress the sob that threatens to escape. He swallows hard and moves his lips to her ear.

"You will be happy Liv, we'll be happy. All you have to do is allow it." She turns toward him, stretching out her legs and curling against him, the movement causes his hand to slide further under her robe and around to her back. His arm forces her robe open and it now hangs loosely down the front of her, the lightly tied knot looping half undone against her abdomen. She feels the erratic draw of his breath against her cheek and presses herself into him, trying to calm him.

"If life was only that easy…" She pulls on the blanket, tugging it over her hip and adjusting it to once again to cover them both but letting her right breast press into his chest where the robe has left her exposed.

"Maybe it is Liv. Either way, don't you think it's worth a try?" He feels her sink back into him and he presses his lips into her hair, kissing the top of her head and inhaling the tantalizing scent of her.

"Yes Elliot, it's worth a try, because it's you, because it's us." She pushes the doubt out of her system in a heavy sigh, wanting to believe her own words. Her fingertips press lightly into the ridge of muscle across his chest and then lift as she watches the play of flesh under her hand. She always knew he would be firm, that the mass of muscles he bunched up while questioning a suspect would feel rock solid against her. His lips move to her forehead and gently kiss a path down the side of her face. She turns her head and tilts into him, capturing his lips with her own.

She kisses him deeply but slowly, savoring the moment, tasting him fully. Her tongue slides over his in long slow strokes and it's as sexual as if she was stroking his cock. His breathing is shallow by the time she releases him and he suddenly wants to look at her. He pulls her on top of him and slides over so he's lying flat on his back with his head against the arm of the sofa. She attaches her mouth to his neck and sucks on the cord of muscle running to his shoulder. He moans, tipping his head as she increases the pressure. She's marking him, he can feel it. He feels her shift her weight fully so she's straddling his hips, her knees coming up to clench against him. He watches the blanket slip to the floor and when he looks back at her sitting up, he gasps.

The window bathes her in a soft light, her thick cream robe falling away from her, off one shoulder. Her skin is a smooth landscape peaking at her dark nipples, dipping into a shadow at her navel and disappearing into the curls between her legs. Her hair is tousled and her lips swollen from their night's activities but it's her eyes, shining, even in the dim light that cause his cock to twitch beneath her. He thinks she couldn't be more beautiful than she is at this moment and sexier than any image he has ever dared to imagine. She moves to lean forward but his hand on her shoulder stops her.

"Wait, I want to look at you for a moment. I know it makes you uncomfortable but, god Liv, you're so beautiful." His hands move to her neck and begin stroking down and across her shoulders, pushing the rest of the robe into a pool around her hips. His touch reverently brushes over every rise and fall of her flesh.

She has never thought of herself as beautiful but looking into his eyes she can clearly see that he believes his words. She closes her eyes and tips up her chin, indulging in the feel of him as he cups her breast and molds his hand over her hip. His fingers trail down her arms and she twitches, then smiles when he finds a sensitive spot. His touch still feels like fire on her skin and she wonders if he'll ever touch her again without the heat of him seeping into her. She is sure that if she were to look she would see the red tracks of his touch burned across her body, his fingerprints clear at the curve of her breast. She tilts in surprise as his thumb dips into her navel, smoothing in and out of it before circling around. She clenches her abdominal muscles and bobs slightly as his deep laugh rumbles beneath her. His palms are flat against her thighs sliding up the length of her with agonizing slowness. His fingertips brush over the tender strip of skin where her leg bends into her center and even though she's concentrating on remaining still her legs slide the slightest bit apart in anticipation of his approach. She knows without looking that he's smiling, satisfied that even in her stillness her body leans toward his touch. Maybe they have never really had synchronized movements, maybe all this time her body was just following his lead. One finger traces the edges of her curls and over her lips and she tightens her thighs to keep from rocking forward onto his hand. She can feel her own liquid desire gathering between her legs, slick between her lips as her body prepares for him to enter her.

She pulls in her lower lip, biting gently to try and distract herself from the sensations swirling within her. Every cell of her skin feels hypersensitive, open and exposed by his touch. Suddenly he squeezes her nipple, tugging it gently and rolling it even as he pinches it in his fingers. Her body arches forward and a groan rips from her as her eyes open in surprise. Sharp pulses of pleasure jump and run from her breast to deep in her womb and she rocks her hips, feeling his penis tighten to completely solid under her. She's wet, and as she pushes down on him, her lips spreading, she knows he can feel it now too. A guttural sound wrenches from his chest but he continues his onslaught, adding his other hand to her free breast, increasing the sweet torment of it. Her hands fall to his hips and she tilts forward, grinding herself on his penis, rubbing her clit against him in a self gratifying rhythm.

She's soaking him, and his dick is throbbing with the need to be inside her but it's the slamming of his heart echoing in his ears that sounds like the rapid thumping of distant drums. He knew she was beautiful, he knew she was sexy but it's the things he didn't know that he thinks will destroy him. He had no idea that the round weight of her breast against his palm would feel like it was fused into his touch. He would never have guessed that her nipples were some deep shade of caramel and sat slightly upturned on her breast as though awaiting the descent of his lips. He could never have known that the golden color of her skin that he watched disappear into a thousand v-neck shirts over the years, was actually that color all over. He never let his mind entertain the idea that every inch of her was an uninterrupted landscape of smooth warm flesh that would so compel his hands and mouth. Then there were her lips and the sound that comes from them, the sound that is coming from them now.

Over the years there had been times when he heard her moan, seconds in which the sound had escaped her before she had realized it. Those moments live in Elliot's memory and still didn't prepare him for the way the sound of her would rip through him, firing up every moment he had ever thought of wanting her in the last eight years. It renders him helpless and the heat of it forges a steal hard on the likes of which he has only heard of in pulpy novels and bad letters to porn magazines. Even now, with his balls aching from the night's activities and his body tender in place he never even considered he wants only one thing. He wants to bury his cock inside her; he wants to drive into her so deeply she has only enough breath to make that sound again. God help him, it's all he wants.

He releases her breasts and grabs her hips but her look of surprise stalls when she sees the burning raw hunger in his gaze. He lifts her up and she guides him to her entrance where she eases herself down, feeling every bit of him as he slides into her swollen center. As she settles herself down on him there is a mutual sigh of contentment. It's more than sex, more than fucking or mating or a quest to satisfy an urge. This is a need, to be joined like this and to feel him touch her in a place she can't even reach herself, a place inside her that now belongs solely to him. She leans forward, spreading her thighs and tilting her hips to seal herself against him. She feels his groan in the palms of her hands where they are pressed into his chest and she smiles.

He slowly sits up and she watches him rise from the recesses of the shadows in the sofa, his body somehow more alive and his eyes catching the glow of a low blue flame as the haze of light engulfs him. He feels her lock her muscles around him as he turns slightly in the seat, sliding his feet to the floor. He's sitting now and he tugs her robe from around her, pulling gently in the places it has caught between them. So much has been caught between them over the years. Maybe they have burned through the rest, all the anger, doubt, pride, shame, indifference, confusion, faith, loyalty and a thousand others. Maybe after managing all of that they were left with just this, the passion, the love, the obsession she has become for him. He pushes up and feels her relax in acceptance of him but even as he settles back into the cushion he watches in amazement as her stomach and thighs tighten while her womb seizes tightly around him. He moves his hands to her ass and as soft as her flesh is, it's her strength that speaks to him when the muscles bunch and harden against his palms. As she pulls herself up he thinks he may come and wonders if it qualifies as sex if you don't even survive two strokes.

He wants to tell her but he's afraid if he speaks this blanket of intensity that has wrapped itself around them will slide off and puddle on the floor with her robe. He kisses her instead, surrendering himself to the taste of her and letting all the words he isn't saying melt in her mouth. He thrusts up again and she moans against his lips. Her hands are moving over him, her nails graze over his muscled shoulders as he arches toward her while she lifts herself again. He breaks from her lips and dips his head, taking her nipple into the hot depths of his mouth and working a hard rhythm against it with his tongue. She groans out a sound that turns into a cry as he increases the pressure. He moves one hand between them to stroke her clit as she slides up until just the head of him remains inside her then plunges down over him. He leans back, pushing himself into the cushion and pushing up off the floor. He grabs her waist with one hand as the shudder begins with a vibration deep within her. Her muscles slam erratically around him while he empties himself into her, his long torso and thighs lifting her off the sofa as he arches into the air. His hand keeps pumping just under her clit, faster and faster and she is wailing as her body pulls up and slams back against him in answer to the relentless hammering pleasure that pounds within her. Just as the darkness licks at the edges of her thoughts she crashes down and the throbbing shifts into an internal pulse that causes her to lock her knees against him, clench her muscles hard and bear down into the feeling. Elliot slows his hand and moves it so he is holding her hips as he keeps rocking up and pressing her down on him. Her upper body is trembling as she lies down on his chest, his heart thundering beneath her. She is trying to force a deep breath but her lungs continue to heave with the effort. His hand is stroking the length of her back, his fingertips glancing over the ridges in her spine, his touch calming.

It's a long time before they are both still. He knows she's still awake because he can feel her lashes flutter against his chest when she blinks. She lifts herself gingerly off of him and settles by his side. She scrunches her face as she stretches out her legs.

"Jesus, I'm not going to be able to walk tomorrow." Her voice is low, she's exhausted and still there is something electric slithering through her veins, an undercurrent snapping and crackling within her limbs. Glancing at him she catches the huge grin spread across his face. She flicks her wrist, slapping his abdomen. "You're such an ass."

"What? I can't be happy?" His attempt at sounding sincere fails.

"You're happy that I won't be able to walk?" She locks on his eyes now and there's no escaping her.

"No, no, look I can't walk now, forget about tomorrow. I think I need to take a two week vacation just to feel my legs again and if you weren't looking I'd probably be checking to make sure my dick is still attached." She's laughing by the time he's done, the sound and feel of it rolling across him. It's almost as good as the sex. He's laughing too, until he feels her hand gently touch his resting cock.

"Well, let's make sure you're not damaged." She tries to maintain a concerned expression as she lifts and tugs softly but her laughter wins and she collapses next to him as it ruptures from her. Gasping she tries to continue, "it looks…like it's still…attached…and will rise again." Her hand moves to her stomach as she tries to calm herself, slowing to a snicker.

He wants to be indignant, offended or something but the sound of her fills every dark corner within him and he is left defenseless. He let's his own laughter rumble from him and the release is amazing. He can barely believe that he's here laughing with her, naked on the sofa after so much sex he just aches. Olivia.

He musters his best sounding hurt voice, "oh, it's okay that I laugh at you but you can joke all you want about my pain?" He puts on a pout and crosses his arms over his chest.

"I'm sorry El, do you want me to kiss it and make it better?" She has dropped her voice to that low sexy sound that makes his blood rush faster through his veins, most of it with one destination. When he looks up she has that gleam in her eye, the one he now knows may be the death of him. He sits up straight, wincing at the various muscles that are beginning to protest his marathon activities.

"No, kissing is not going to fix this, but later a little resuscitation may revive it." He's trying to look innocent, but only manages petulant.

Her hand is quick, catching his chest this time when she snaps it in his direction. "You're such an ass and after that comment I'm even retracting my kiss offer." She's shaking her head and talking above his whining response to her strike.

"I can't believe how much you hit me. When did you become so slap happy? I thought Oregon was all about Zen, meditation and being one with the earth. By the way, you can't just take something back." He is chuckling softly now, his hand moving down his abdomen in case he has to cover his dick in a hurry.

"Believe me, I'm not hitting you. If I were to actually hit you, you'd know it. As for Oregon, we did meditate but I'm not sure I ever really got the hang of it. Being one with the earth was not the point, saving its resources and ultimately the planet itself was the focus and to be honest I learned a lot that I'll keep doing. As for your last comment, I don't have to take back the kiss; I didn't give it to you. I only made you the offer of a kiss and any verbal offer may be retracted within 72 hours by either party without consequences." She is grinning in what she knows is victory.

"You have obviously spent too much time hanging out around the assistant D.A.'s. I do find it interesting that you quote the law and threaten me in the same speech. I'm a cop you know, that's a felony. I could arrest you." He pauses and they sit in silence for a moment. "I just can't see you meditating. What did you learn about the earth while you were gone?" There was still a little ache in him at the mention of Oregon. He thought briefly of the wet bloody clothes he left in his tub just a day ago and flexed his sore hands unconsciously.

She yawns next to him, winding down. The room is growing bright with the first lights of dawn and everything is catching up to her. "I'll tell you tomorrow El. Let's go to bed now, I think I can go back to sleep and I'm pretty sure I can walk that far." She blinks and her eyes stay closed for just a second before she lifts herself into a standing position. She waivers slightly but manages one step forward. She hears Elliot groan as he rises, his joints snapping and popping in protest. She pauses and without turning she puts her hand out behind her. She smiles as she feels his fingers lace between her own and squeeze gently. As they make their way down the hall to her bedroom she wonders if maybe it all can be as easy as this moment, maybe it's just as simple as reaching for his hand.


	7. Chapter 7

Undercover Days

Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing with them.

**Warning: Rated M, mildly sexually explicit.**

A/N: Those of you that are following this story can thank Kinseyjo, she has been diligent in gently prodding me to continue. Now I have a little subplot coming so stay tuned…as always, thanks for reading and comments are always appreciated.

Chapter 7

"What is it about you that closes and opens…

only I understand the voice of your eyes…

deeper than all roses." e.e. cummings

Olivia is sitting at the kitchen table sorting through a massive stack of mail. There are several piles of bills and letters lined up neatly above her work area. She's holding a small knife in her hand and it glints in the sun as she flicks her wrist to open the next envelope, after quickly scanning it she lets it flutter into the trash. She has one knee bent and resting against the edge of the table, her foot perches on the seat, toes curling over the edge. She pauses to sip her coffee before lifting and examining the next envelope, shaking her head slightly to move her bangs from her eyes.

She's been working for an hour or so when she suddenly has an intense desire to hear his voice. She knows he's sleeping just down the hall but the feeling that something is wrong grips her so completely she freezes for a moment. The panic blossoms in her chest and she fights to get a handle on it as it tightens and sinks its claws into her. For a fleeting second she wonders if she's having a heart attack but dismisses the thought almost as soon as it forms. Her fingers press into the table and she squeezes her eyes closed until white spots appear behind her lids. She feels a film of sweat rise from the heat of her skin and she has to concentrate on forcing air into her lungs. It seems like a long time before the feeling wanes and she can breathe again. She still wants to hear his voice but the urge has become a whisper instead of the visceral scream of moments ago. She gets up to splash some cool water on her face at the sink and makes a fresh pot of coffee to distract herself while she pushes through the confusion and tries to understand what's happening.

There is no flash of understanding, no proverbial light bulb beaming with an answer. Even after contemplation she has no idea what the fuck just happened.

Pretty much everything between her navel and her knees aches with a soft throb as she moves. She walks to the bedroom with a cup of coffee and watches him sleep. She wants to wake him but she doesn't want to give in to the irrational need dancing around inside her head. She likes standing there watching his chest rise, it makes her feel strangely calmer and it's at that moment she gets an idea.

Elliot opens his eyes and immediately snaps them closed again. In those few seconds he recognizes two things. The first is that he's at Olivia's and second is that it must be late in the morning because the room is entirely too bright. He inhales deeply knowing that's he's in her bed and the scent of her fills him, drawing a contented smile across his face. It's the other scent that causes him to force his eyes open. Stretching out his arm he finds the bed is empty and the sharp rich smell of fresh strong coffee fills the air. He turns his head, squinting into the sun drenched window which has the shade open and the curtain drawn back. There on the nightstand is a steaming cup of coffee. He chuckles softly and drags himself into a sitting position. His body hurts, his thighs are sore and his joints are popping and groaning in protest. He feels like he's a hundred years old and still he's smiling. He lifts the coffee cup and pauses to study the dark green color etched with pine trees before taking a sip. He flexes his other hand and examines the scabbed and purple knuckles. He wonders where the coffee cup came from and what the story was behind her owning it. The cup he uses at home says _World's Greatest Dad_ on it with floating hearts. It was a gift from Katie when she was about six years old. He scrubs his palm over his face to rub out the sleep and lets his optimism rise to the surface. He pulls on his shorts, takes his coffee and heads into the bathroom.

When he reaches the kitchen she's sitting at the table going through an intimidating pile of mail. He moves his gaze over her, dragging along the tan expanse of her thigh to the edge of her shorts. He walks stiffly up to her and bends to kiss her as she turns her face toward him.

"Good morning." His eyes are twinkling and she thinks of how the sun sparkles on the water as his lips cover hers.

"Good afternoon, it's not morning anymore." She's smiling and he wants to wake up and see that expression on her face everyday. Knowing how that admission would paralyze her, he keeps it to himself.

"It's good either way but I actually did notice it was getting late. Opening the blinds was very subtle although I do appreciate the coffee." She has a mischievous grin tugging at her mouth and she turns, letting her warm brown eyes settle on him fully. The sarcasm in his voice as he referenced the blinds was obvious and she should have expected the cop in him to notice immediately.

"I didn't want to wake you but I wanted you to get up so I thought I'd encourage you." There is something lying still behind her words and it strikes him that she wanted him to get up.

He moves around the back of her chair ducking as he goes and whispers against her ear. "Did you miss me?" A chill rolls over her shoulders and down her spine causing a small shiver as his words echo her return from Oregon. She lifts her coffee to warm her hands and watches him fold his large frame into the seat.

"Yes." The confession seeps from between her lips before she can stop it. She can feel him watching her, weighing her response. She knows it's true but she didn't expect to tell him so she reins herself back in by flipping the conversation. "Don't' let it go to your head. You don't look like you're walking too well today." His laugh startles her, seeps into her and brings her smile.

"It was worth it and I'd do it again if I could." He looks down and pulls open the front of his shorts as though checking on the state of his sore penis and she bursts out laughing. The sound of it fills him up and sends a rush of warmth over his skin. "I have to go to my apartment and the laundry mat, get some clean clothes and…if I'm going to stay there I'll have to buy some groceries. I was wondering if you wanted to come with me or if you wanted some quiet time." He's barely breathing when he finishes because he's been dreading this conversation since last night when he knew it was going to take place.

He can't keep up with the myriad of emotions that wash across her face as she ponders his question. "Why are you going to the laundry mat, I thought your building had a laundry room?" He knows she's buying time and he's grateful that she didn't just tell him to go.

"While you were gone there was a flood in the basement of my building that shorted out the laundry room and blew the motors on the machines so now I have to go out to do my clothes. My storage space got wet and the superintendent didn't notify me so most of the clothes I had down there were moldy and I threw them all out. Its part of the reason my look at work has become so relaxed, most of my suits were down there. The building didn't have flood insurance and I didn't have renters insurance so the owner and I are working on a settlement. Have you ever been to a laundry mat? There are some freaks that hang out in there. I keep looking for people trying to wash blood out of their clothes." She's chuckling but there's a hint of sadness.

"I haven't been to a laundry mat in years but they're notorious for having interesting patrons. In some of them I'd be afraid of what I might catch while I'm there." His finger tips are tracing over the fingers of her hand where it rests on the table.

"What's wrong Liv?" His voice has dropped to that soothing sound she wishes she could wrap around herself.

"How long do you think we will be beginning conversations with the phrase _when you were gone_?" He knows what she's asking. How long will it be before this thing is not still sitting between them? Even now when they both want to put it behind them and move on with their lives.

"Just until we're caught up on everything that we each did during that time, then before we know it, it will just be part of our colorful pasts. If you'd like we can sit up late one night with Chinese food and I'll tell you everything I can remember from that time period so you're current on the life and times of Elliot Stabler." She loves this part of him that has learned to make everything simple and she wonders where this new calmer version of him came from or if it was here all along and she just never got to see it. Maybe sex melts all his rough edges. She almost laughs out loud when she thinks it.

Her eyes are suddenly sparkling with amusement and he sighs with relief at having her fully back from the world of shadows she has been moving in since he joined her at the table. She lifts her fingers and slides them between his until there is no space. It's reminiscent of having him pressed between her thighs and the thought puts her desire on slow simmer.

"You know we could go by your apartment and get your clothes and you could wash them here. I do have a washer and dryer. Then we could go to the grocery store and get some things for dinner." She pauses and looks at him; her eyes hold a hint of fear. "I don't feel the need to kick you out yet and I know there are still some things we should probably discuss." He's grinning like a fool. Something happened to her in Oregon, something that has made her more accessible, less defensive. He squeezes her hand and nods in agreement.

"Now what would you like for breakfast?" He finishes his coffee and gets up slowly, taking both cups to be refilled.

"A Coney dog with onions and chili from the vendor two blocks down, he has all beef dogs." He's laughing and has to stop pouring for a moment.

"Really Liv, for breakfast? How many times have we talked about this? It can't be good for you."

"It's really lunch time and besides, my stomach doesn't know what time it is so don't look at me that way, over a million New Yorkers can't be wrong. Anyway, who are you trying to kid? You always complain but when we get there, you'll end up eating two of them." She nods toward the mail, "Let's jump in the shower, I'll finish this when we get back. All this talk of dogs has me hungry." She takes her coffee from him and heads toward the bathroom.

It doesn't escape her that this will be the second time in the last twenty four hours that she will be climbing naked into the shower with Elliot. As she turns on the water she realizes that she will never use this bathroom again without picturing them in that frenzied state of lust pounding into one another over the sink. The thought makes her stand bolt upright. Years ago she stopped bringing men to her apartment; she always made sure she went to their place. This is her sanctuary so she keeps it free from her sexual encounters. Is that what she thinks of Elliot? A sexual encounter? Of course not, she's invited him over in the past as one of her friends. Her place is filled with warm memories of her friends. Now what? When she needs some space from him she'll be here at home and everywhere she looks there will be an image of them. Her mind is racing when she feels his fingertips drag lazily along the back of her shoulders, sliding her hair to the side. His lips press against the nape of her neck and his tongue swirls hotly over the fine hairs, moistening her skin and stealing her breath away. He begins to suck, drawing the flesh into his mouth, scalding her. A moan rolls from her lips and her nipples tighten rapidly with a twinge of tenderness. Her fears disintegrate as he touches her and her demons descend into silence until there is nothing in her head but the feel of his lips.

She lifts her arms and lets him pull her tank top over her head, the steam from the running shower clinging to her skin. The heat presses against her as he peels off her shorts kissing a line down her thigh as he moves. She feels herself let go of her thoughts about her house being a sanctuary as she steps into the tub. He's her sanctuary now. Her body relaxes under the pounding water and she tips her head back, letting everything wash away except feel of his hands sliding down her sides.

He picks up the soap and lathers her torso and arms, smoothing the slippery foam over her skin with an almost reverent touch. His knee pops as he squats down, working his way down her body and she closes her eyes and stays perfectly still. He stands, tips up her chin and runs his fingers into her hair as he adds shampoo and begins massaging his fingers firmly against her scalp. She isn't fighting him; she isn't telling him how capable she is of doing it herself. She just lets him touch her as though he owns every inch of her, which at this point she's pretty sure he does. The voice within her, ranting about her independence has been drowned out and now sounds like someone calling to her from so far away that she can't make out what's being said. When his hand slides between her legs her thigh muscle jumps and she hears the rumble of his deep laughter.

Her stomach growls loudly and he presses his ear to her abdomen as though listening. "Yep, that's definitely a request for Coney dogs." She can't keep from smiling now.

"I'm starving; I may eat two of them today." She opens her eyes and he's right in front of her, with his eyes bright and a look of such genuine happiness on his face that it catches her off guard.

"You can eat as many of them as you like, I'm even buying so don't hold back." She smacks his arm, feigning offence and he tries to look wounded.

"There's that hand again and I didn't even do anything except offer to buy your breakfast!" He tries to look exasperated but his smile renders it ineffective.

"You know it's funny how loudly you protest that weak slap when this is a much more painful injury and I don't recall you complaining at all." Her fingers tap lightly against the bruises circling the bite mark on his shoulder. She leans in and nips the skin next to it before moving down and doing it again. Her mouth opens. Her tongue dancing over the skin before her teeth catch him once again, causing a moan to echo in the small space.

"Now you're just not playing fair." She nips a little harder and then looks up at him.

"Fair is just another four letter f word Stabler." His laughter is deep and rich within the heat, a lather of its own sort sliding down over her skin. They trade places in the water, turning as if this is a dance they've done a thousand times. She now smoothes her hands over the flat planes of his chest, running her palm back and forth over his nipple. Just as he's about to comment she moves on, lingering just long enough to feel his breathing become shallow. Her hand slides down his abdomen and strokes over his cock. She laughs softly when he tips his bead back and squeezes his eyes shut. Her fingers cup and massage the soap over and around his balls and he can't breathe at all.

In his head there is a voice which simply says to him, _Olivia is soaping your balls._ He feels himself growing harder as she touches him and her soft seductive laughter floats around him. Her hands move to his thighs and as she is bent to her task he opens his eyes in time to watch her fingers curve around his calf. The soap bubbles rise between her fingers, highlighting her dark skin. She moves up, her hands begin kneading his ass and work up his back. Her body is pressing against him now, her nipples brushing his chest while her hands smooth over the long muscles of his back. Her arms tighten around him and she nuzzles her face into his neck.

He pulls her close and for a moment they just stand there holding each other under the water. In that moment the sexual feelings between them expand and become something else, something bigger than she can contain and it scares her. She trembles a little in his arms and he tightens his hold on her. Instinctually she is torn by a dual desire to both push him away and to cling to him. She wants to trust him, to allow this feeling to flow unheeded through her but it feels so powerful, powerful enough to sweep her away in its depths. She breaths hard, licking the water from her lips and blinking slowly, not answering either urge.

He just stays still and holds her because he felt the swell of emotion between them and now she's shaking. He knows she isn't cold and he's sure if he were to tip her head back so he could see her face her eyes would be wide with that frightened _deer caught in the headlights _look. The panic in her rises in the small caverns between their bodies so he does the only thing he can think of to do, he holds her closer. His shoulders and back are stinging their way to numb from the water steadily drumming on him but everything in him tells him not to move until she does. He feels her press against him as her chest expands with a deep breath and then the slightest tilt of her shoulders. By the third breath she is starting to actually relax into him, her body molding into his instead of just pressing against him. Mercifully her stomach growls and she feels the rumble of his body as he laughs in response.

His lips near her ear and his tongue slips out and chases a drop of water around the edge. "I hear a complaint being registered; maybe we should get out so we can go take care of your stomach."

She lifts her head, smiling, "your stomach needs attention too. I want you to get your energy level back up; you're going to need it." She kisses him softly and steps away from him to climb out when she notices his dick is still mostly hard, bobbing slightly. She looks at him with a questioning glance and he waves his hand over it.

"Don't worry; it's just an empty threat. Let's go eat first." He's grinning and she thinks he's blushing a little so she steps out and grabs a towel. She opens the door to allow the heat to billow out of the room and strolls into the bedroom. He watches her dress and thinks about all the things he knows about her and yet there is a whole world of things that are new. She steps into a pair of underwear and wanders to her closet to find a shirt before pulling jeans from her dresser.

"Elliot, are you going to just stand there and watch me or are you actually going to get dressed too?" She doesn't look at him as she speaks; she's pulling her jeans up over her hips, her breasts swaying gently with the motion. He wants to walk over to her and peel them back down her legs and press his face to the smooth flesh of her abdomen while stilling her breasts in his hands. He looks up at her face when he realizes that she has stopped moving and is just staring at him.

"I've never watched you get dressed before. I like it." His eyes are shining with the first glint of desire and she can't help but smile at him.

"What is it with you? Most men like to watch women take their clothes off, not put them on." Her small smile is seductive and he is overwhelmed by this Olivia, this sexual side of her.

"That's because they aren't watching you. You could be doing almost anything and make it look sexy as hell." She laughs then, shaking her head in disbelief of the image he has of her. She pulls her belt through the loops, her arms dipping behind her as she weaves it through the back. He has to turn away or touch her.

"You only say that because you haven't seen me clean the toilet." She hears him chuckle as he begins dressing himself.

"I'm certain in a little French maid's uniform with a scrub brush in your hand…" She can't see him but knows he's grinning now.

"Yeah, that's what I put on to clean my apartment El. You should see the little police uniform that I wear when no one's around." He knows she's teasing him but the images are too much for him and his dick continues to harden as she speaks.

"If you don't really own one, I'd be happy to buy one for you." He looks up at her briefly, "although I have to tell you, the undone jeans and topless look is doing it for me." His eyes have darkened and she can feel the heat of them on her. The chill rolls down her body with his gaze and she decides it's time to finish dressing or they're never going to get out of the apartment.

"I'm starting to think just about anything does it for you." She slips into her bra with mindless efficiency and grabs her chosen t-shirt.

"Not anything Liv, just anything that makes me think of you." He tucks his t-shirt into his jeans and then pulls it back out, either way his bulge is obvious. He sits on the edge of the bed and is shaking out his socks, wishing he didn't have to put them back on his clean feet.

"Here, I have socks you can wear. Those can go right in the hamper by the door." She tosses him the socks and he shakes them out, looking closely at them.

"Are they girls' socks?"

"No Elliot, they're just socks, sport socks, now put them on and lets go." She walks over and takes his dirty socks from the edge of the bed and drops them in her hamper. They land on her t-shirt and underwear. The shirt she wore home. The simple sight of his socks in her hamper makes her feel odd, a squirming feeling deep in her belly. It's so domestic, so ordinary and so far from whom they have always been that she doesn't know what to do with it. She drops the lid, trapping the clothes in there as though they're going to escape. When she turns he's ready to go.

She gathers the rest of her things and puts on her coat. He's holding his hoodie sweatshirt, the neckline bunched in his fist as though he's strangled someone.

"El, are you going to put that on, it's pretty cold out today."

He doesn't want to tell her that he wants the blast of cold air to settle him down. "I can take it."

"Those are tough words from a guy wearing girls' socks." She's laughing as she speaks and he thinks about just how much he missed her.

"I might as well tell you, I'm wearing your underwear too." His deadpan delivery hits her hard and her laughter erupts loudly through the hallway. He never wants it to end. Knowing he can't hold the moment he instead reaches for her hand and leads her laughing into the bright New York afternoon.


	8. Chapter 8

Undercover Days chapter 8

Warning: It's an M people, take note of the warning, **sexually explicit material!**

A/N: Hope you all enjoy this, as always thanks so much for reading. Your comments are always appreciated.

Disclaimer: Don't own them, but have contributed to their libidos…

Walking feels good to her, stretching the sore muscles in her thighs with each stride is dulling the ache. Holding his hand feels odd to her because for all the years they have moved in matching steps down the streets with hands brushing, they have never actually held hands. Olivia tries to recall if she has ever held the hand of anyone other than a child or a victim. She comes up empty and decides that in general this is something she doesn't do. Olivia Benson is not the hand holding type. Men have placed their hands on her back, on her ass and around her waist but none over the years have tried to simply mix their fingers with hers. Until now as Elliot walks beside her with his body in exact rhythm with hers and their hands linked between them. They could be any couple on the street.

The vendor comes into view and she smiles, her face bright with anticipation. They stop in front of the cart and he watches her inhale deeply.

"Smells like Manhattan to me. Hello Leo, how are you?" She smiles at the older man and he suddenly stands a little taller.

"Hey Bella, I'm good, I'm good. Where have you been? I haven't seen you in a long time. No one else comes and buys my orange juice but you." His thick accent makes it hard for Elliot to completely understand him. He's bundled up in dark layers of worn sweats and jackets and the ends of his short fingers stick out of his cut gloves. He winks at Olivia and gives her a crooked grin. Elliot guesses his age at seventy something.

"Leo this is my partner Elliot. Don't let him fool you, El. He only started to carry orange juice because I would ask him for it every day. Now he's sold out all the time. We need four dogs, smothered and smokin' and two waters." Elliot nods to the man, who gives him the once over, his eyes pausing at their locked hands. He flashes a quick mischievous grin before turning his attention back to Olivia.

"When you gonna marry me so I can get off this corner?" He opens the steaming compartments and begins a rapid assembly of the Coney dogs.

"I told you Leo, you're too young and good looking. You'd just break my heart." Elliot tries to tell if her cheeks are rosy from the cold or if she's blushing because he's listening to the exchange. He regretfully lets go of her hand and digs the money out of his pocket to pay the man. Leo hands him the waters and he pulls on his sweatshirt and slides them into the front pocket.

"That's a lot of bull for a woman so beautiful to carry around." He pauses to slide the dogs on the thin metal counter at the front of his cart and takes the money from Elliot. "You come by in the morning and I'll have your juice."

"I'm not back to work yet Leo but I'll let you know when my routines going to begin again. I'll see you in the next few days though, for more of these." She raises a hand with the wrapped foil in it and waves as they walk away. "Elliot, where's your car?" She stops on the street, holding her foil wrapped dogs and looking down the street.

"I parked around the corner on the next block. Remember I was on a mission when I came here." He falls silent because so much has happened between them that now it seems like it was a long time ago that he parked down the street and snuck into her apartment. He shakes his foot midstep to dislodge a candy wrapper that has stuck to his shoe. She falls into step beside him and he realizes that he's never seen her like this, in her life outside of work. There have only been moments of knowledge he has stolen in the thin grey seam where her life and work bleed together. He wonders who else she knows in the neighborhood by name. He's on auto pilot so he approaches her side of the car, hits the lock and opens it without thinking. Olivia stops dead in her tracks.

"Elliot…"

He immediately cuts her off by raising his dog filled hand in a motion of surrender. "It was automatic, it doesn't mean anything. Let's just get in the car and eat our foil wrapped heartburn." He smiles brightly and hopes she'll just let it go. He tries to remember if he's ever opened the door for her before today but his mind can't pull up any information. All he can see is her as his partner running to the car, popping the handle and sliding inside in one fluid motion. She stares at him as he walks to his side of the car and climbs inside. "Come on Liv, our lunch is getting cold."

She gets in and shuts the door harder than she had intended. He starts the car but doesn't put it in gear. He hands her a water and sees her relax a bit. She turns on the heat and begins to unwrap one of her dogs. As he reaches for the shift she puts a hand on his arm.

"Don't drive yet. Let's just sit here and eat."

"In the car outside of your apartment?" She looks away from him and when she looks back she's smiling but her eyes are shadowed with sadness.

"Yeah, just like old times, let's just sit and eat in the car." She's already lifting her dog and taking that first bite. She tilts it to keep from losing the chili on top and makes a humming sound of pleasure that tightens his balls. "I think this is the longest I've gone in my entire life without a Coney dog." She shifts the conversation and it feels so natural to be here with her eating in the car that he lets himself relax. He knows she misses it and he wants to ask her if she's coming back but right now he can't. Right now he doesn't want to know. He watches her lips wrap around the bun and suck softly at the toppings before biting through. The heat is suddenly blowing too hot and the car feels like there is no air in it at all. She looks at him and catches the expression she now understands. "Are you going to eat because I'm warning you, if I finish these and you have any left, they become fair game."

He blushes and tugs at his foil package, watches the wind lift a clear piece of plastic wrap off the ground and send it dancing in the air. It feels like a stake out to him so out of habit he falls into a comfortable silence with her, their eyes searching the streets with no real intent.

Olivia takes in everything, absorbing the flavor of the city. She feels like Oregon washed her clean, too clean, down to a layer of raw skin. She wants to feel like part of this place again, immersed in every sight and sound until her movements echo the pulse of it. Her eyes scan the people walking to work in suits and sneakers with large bags slung over their shoulders and cell phones glued to their ears. There's a man in his twenties leaning against a bin that used to collect mail but now sits unused and covered in graffiti. He looks suspicious in the way that he's examining the crowd and continuously adjusting his beat up army jacket. A woman with spiked blonde hair wearing pale blue sweats and walking five dogs goes by him. He watches her until she turns the next corner and his expression tightens Olivia's stomach. An older man pushing a squeaking grocery cart shuffles toward the corner near the car. She mentally notes a distinguishing feature about each person as she has been trained to do. This one has a scar, a tattoo, a piercing, a limp…it's ingrained in her. She'll always be a cop, see through cops eyes as she looks out on the street. They will never be just people to her; they will always be a perp, a victim, a witness or a bystander. The landscape of the city soothes her, familiar in its hard plains and constant motion. Oregon was too still, too quiet, the sounds of life there were muted and soft, blending into the green and blue stretch of the horizon.

"Hey, I thought you were going to finish that and eat mine. How is it that I'm done before you?" His voice startles her and she turns quickly in his direction.

"That's because you don't chew." She pops the last bite into her mouth and balls up the foil. "Go on and head to your place, I can finish this one on the way." She's opening the second one as she speaks.

"Are you sure, because I'm content to sit and wait for you." He's too warm and his dick is hard but otherwise he's content.

"No that's okay; I'm practically a pro at eating while you drive." He can't contain the grin because that's his partner talking, comfortable, his. It makes him happy to hear that tone from her and yet she technically isn't his partner right now and given the last twenty four hours, she may never be his partner again. He stops, the thought is heavy, weighing him down like a rock tied to the ankle of a drowning man. All he wants to do is breath. He cracks his window and turns his head to try to suck in some cool oxygen. His head is still spinning; he's still sinking into the freezing depths. She may never be his partner again. Part of him may be dying.

"Elliot, are you alright?" She's staring at him with intense scrutiny, a worried look tightening her features. "You look so pale. Talk to me."

He doesn't want to do this now; he knows it's coming but just not now. He needs to think. Seeing her hand still holding the last of her lunch he offers her a weak smile, "maybe I shouldn't have scarfed those two Coneys' quite so fast." He puts the car into gear and pulls out, placing his hand on his stomach for a moment to allow her to believe that's the cause of his distress.

She settles back against her seat, pulls her sunglasses out of her pocket and puts them on before finishing her food. She has emptied her water by the time they reach his apartment and now she just wants him to get the damn door open so she can use the bathroom. She's standing behind him outside the door, rocking onto her toes and back to her heels. He no sooner gets the door open than she slips past him and down the hall. He's smiling, thinking its a little funny until he hears the door click shut and remembers the condition of the bathroom. He throws his dirty clothes into a laundry basket and strips the sheets off the bed trying to distract himself.

Olivia sees the pool of darkness on the floor of the tub and she remembers Elliot telling her about what happened. She's washing her hands and her intent is to leave the room, to let him come and collect the clothes as though she hadn't noticed. She turns around and pulls the curtain back deciding instead that she'll take the clothes to him. The idea of pretending she didn't see them just doesn't feel good to her; they've done enough pretending along the way. The clothing smells a little moldy and is lying in a way that looks like the person in them just melted and disappeared. She pulls at the pile, watching as the stiff material peels away from the smooth porcelain. The bottom of the tub has a pattern on it, thin lines of dried blood that were trapped by the folds of the material. Elliot's blood. The thought brings the taste of chili to the back of her throat and one hand goes reflexively to her mouth. She tucks the clothes under her arm and turns on the water. The need to clean up his blood surges through hers and the sheer force of the urge causes her to rock a step. Her hands feel cold and the tightness in her chest has returned. She tries to take a deep breath but her rib cage won't expand. She's unsure if her vision has become hazy or if it's just the water blurring the lines in the tub as they wash away. Fuck. What the hell is happening to her? Her body is too hot and damp as though the room is filling with steam but the water is on cold. The pain is sharp, sudden and fleeting. Even now with her system screaming she rinses every trace of red down the drain before turning off the water. Her movements are slow. She puts out her hand until she feels the cool tile beneath her palm. She thinks about sitting down but as she's evaluating herself the feeling begins to pass. She forces air into her lungs and despite the weight of the effort, it's still better than a moment ago.

Elliot has packed all the clothes and sheets and thrown a couple bottles of laundry detergent and fabric softener on the pile when he hears the water go on in the bathroom. He straightens immediately. He wants to think there is some bizarre reason why she's showering but even as he tries to pull the thoughts together he know that's not what she's doing. She's rinsing the tub. She's washing all traces of his outburst down the drain and out of sight. He doesn't know how to feel about it. Does she think that if she cleans the tub it'll be as if it never happened? His bruised knuckles taunt him with the truth. She left him and it almost broke him. If she hadn't come back when she did he may very well have self destructed, just exploded from the internal combustion. It would take more than the showerhead to clean him off the walls then. The water shuts off and he carries the baskets to the front door, trying to shake off the darkness that is blanketing his thoughts.

She comes down the hall a second later and without saying a word deposits the clothes with the rest of the laundry. He notes that she looks a bit pale to him but decides to let it go. He's almost angry but when she lifts her gaze to his it dissolves. Her eyes are wide with fright and he decides to try to snap the brittle tension that stretches between them by lightening their mood.

"So since you already cleaned the tub I figured you were taking me up on that offer to clean in a little French maids outfit. We could pick one up for you on the way back to your place. I could knock a few things over so you have something to bend over and clean up." He's grinning by the time he's done because there is no way he can help it, not with that vision of her in his head. He can almost see her, bending over, thigh high nylons giving way to the smooth tan skin on the back of her legs, a handful of her ass dipping below the edges of a silky pair of underwear and a glimpse of pink lips and dark curls as his mind turns the panties crotchless.

It takes her a second to catch up to him but her expression shifts as she does. Her eyes drop to the bulge in his jeans and back to his face were she notes that both his heads are obviously lost in this little fantasy he's creating.

She saunters toward him and places her hand over his growing erection, her dark eyes hold him as they turn almost black, charred by the fire within them. He flinches just slightly, expecting the lecture on what an asshole he can be and slightly concerned for the safety of his dick. "Is that what you want El? For me to dress up in a maid's uniform and let you direct me like we're making a bad porn movie?" His dick lurches in her hand and his eyes grow bright with surprise. She lets loose with an evil little laugh. "I'll take that as a yes." She moves a step closed to him and he can smell her shampoo and lotion and whatever else makes her smell so damn amazing. Her voice drops and purrs out of her throat as she speaks. "Are you going to be the well endowed stud that pushes me up against a piece of poorly dusted furniture and pounds a hard lesson into me?" Her mind flashes back to the bathroom and how he had tried to cool her down with handfuls of water while his thrusting fed the wild fire within her. She can feel her own moisture seeping between her legs and the weight of her breasts as they fill with the desire to be touched by him.

The small knowing smile on her lips almost pushes him over the edge and he blinks slowly, trying to hold on to his sanity. Olivia being sexy was one thing but this Olivia, oozing seduction out every pore, could blow a chastity belt off of a saint. Jesus Christ, he can hardly keep looking at her and yet he knows he will never tear his eyes away. This woman scares him. Armed with only her attitude he's more afraid of her now than he's ever been while she was holding her gun. His chest is heaving deep breaths and he's grazing her breasts with each inhale. His cock has pushed itself to fully erect and she swears she feels it throb beneath her hand.

He has his hands clench into fists, afraid that his fingers if set free, will curl around the edges of her clothing and then just rip them off. If she's playing with him this game is far too dangerous but because it's her he can't back down. His expression is raging hunger and his innocent smile has rearranged itself into a feral grin. He thrusts his hips forward, pushing his cock into her hand and swaying her with the impact. "Yeah, that's pretty much what I had in mind." His voice is so low she's not sure if she heard him or if the vibration of it just sank into her. She closes her eyes and he leans close enough for her to feel his breath against her ear as he speaks. "You know Liv, you could put on any of those little outfits from lacy to leather and I'd be happy to teach you a **hard **lesson." A small sound escapes her, just the edge of a whimper on her breath. Her hand tightens against him and begins slowly rubbing up and down the material.

"Maybe you'll stop by my apartment one day and I'll be wearing your little outfit but I can promise you I won't be cleaning in it." His hand grabs her wrist and move it to the small of her back as he pulls her against him. His mouth descends on her neck, nipping, swirling and sucking as it moves up to her ear. His teeth scrape her lobe and graze her jaw and her hips buck against him. He backs her up to the wall by the kitchen counter and pushes his thigh between her legs as his lips cover hers. He releases her hand and her arms slide up him and around his neck, her palms cradling the back of his head. She opens her mouth and he snakes his tongue inside, his hands grab her ass and pull her higher onto his thigh where he rocks her hips and grinds against her.

He pauses and peels her shirt over her head before running his hand down her back and pushing it into her jeans. He fits his middle finger between her cheeks, letting the pad of it press against her anus. She rocks hard on him, moaning as the pulling of her jeans in the back forces the front seam against her clit. He drops his head, biting her nipple through the material of her bra. She arches her back and cries out. Her hips pivot hard against him, the teasing pressure from both her ass and her clit somehow too much and still not enough. Her inner muscles pulse, seeking him and the deep throbbing ache is almost unbearable. His lips blow hot moist air against her nipple and then nip again. Her fingers fall to his shoulders and sink into his flesh trying to hold on while she lifts her feet off the floor. She's riding his thigh hard and crying out to him, to god. She tries to tell him she going to come but it's too late, it comes too fast and slams into her before she can speak. Her thighs clamp around his and she pumps in a fierce rapid burst of movement before locking down against him.

As soon as she stills he stands her up and releases her, his hands undoing her pants. He shoves them down and lifts her by the waist, spinning around he sits her on the kitchen table and turns her jeans inside out dragging them down her legs. Her shoes drop to the floor as they come off with everything else. When he stands back up she's tugging roughly while undoing his jeans. His hands are shaking and she's trembling but the frenzied movements continue. His hands go behind her and undo her bra then he whips his shirt over his head and drops it to the floor with the rest. She has his pants pushed down to his knees and he's pushing his way between hers. He rubs the head of his cock along her lips until they part and the wet crest of her is cupping the head of him, her aftershocks trying to suck him inside. She lays back, her fingers curling around the edge of the table. He wraps his hands around her thighs, pushes her legs further apart and plunges into her; the force of it arches her spine and causes her to gasp for air.

God damn it. Just the bulk of him inside her is still a shock, there is hardly enough room left for her to breathe.

They stop then, slowing just a bit and finding each other with their eyes. He presses her legs just a bit further apart and she answers him by tipping her hips up until she can feel his balls bump against her ass. She wants him to move, to drive so hard the heat melts the aching within her. She lets go of the table with one hand and cups her own breast, rolling her nipple between her fingers just the way she likes it. She feels his hands tighten on her thighs and then the shift in his weight as he begins to move. He pulls out slowly and then pushes just the head back in, pulsing it at her entrance. She moans in yearning and frustration, raising her hips higher to try to push into him. He fills her just the second she thinks she'll lose her mind. She feels so full with him buried in her like this, so whole. Like the last piece of a puzzle has dropping into place and the picture has suddenly become clear. She owns this piece of him for these few moments and her body clenches down to hold on.

Nothing in his entire life has prepared him to feel like this. There isn't a word for it but he knows that every time he enters her he feels it rise out of his center and consume him. As he watches her touch herself he growls a low moan and pumps with force, the sound of them slaps to life, filling the room. He desperately wants to touch her but he can't let go, not yet because she's making a sound he's never heard before, a pitch clawing its way out of her. He looks down, staring at his thick cock soaked in her wetness moving in and out of her. Her folds suction around him, squeezing in protest as he slides out and stroking in invitation as he slides in and the sight of it, knowing that it's his Olivia is more than he can bear. He increases his speed until his thighs are burning and her body arches off the table. He's blindly pounding into her and somewhere in his head a voice whispers that he has lost control. They both cry out as her muscles seize tightly around his cock, so tightly that for a second he can't move. She releases him and he slams into her once more, the force driving her up the table a few inches, loosening her grip. He's coming in powerful hot surges inside her, his body rocked by the searing jolts shooting through him. She's clenched like a pulsing vise around him and even after he knows he has emptied himself deep inside her, his body keeps pushing his cock in response to her twitching walls. Small shocks of pleasure keep surging through her and her legs begin to tremble. He slowly eases them down and despite the heat pouring off of their bodies he pulls her up until she's sitting on the edge of the table and holds her tightly against him.

Her eyes are closed and her chest is heaving with her short breaths. She can still see him behind her clenched lids, looking down between her legs to watch himself thrusting into her. The expression on his face and the image of what he was seeing increased her excitement to an impossible intensity. When he moved with the sudden burst of speed inside her she couldn't hold on any longer and her orgasm exploded within her. Even the mental replay causes her body to clench with more effort than it has, sending a slightly painful twinge through her. Elliot's chest rises with a sharp intake of breath beneath her cheek and his hand begins moving in long calming strokes down her back.

She had never engaged in that kind of verbal foreplay with anyone and the intensity of it surprised her. It's because it's Elliot and they always had that natural rhythm and bantering between them. Even as she thinks it she's divided in her feelings between terror and excitement. Her muscles cinch one more time and he kisses the top of her head.

"You okay?" His voice sounds like it's coming from far away.

"Yeah." It comes out softer than she intended or maybe it just seems that way with his heart pounding in her ear. He tips his hips back and she feels his cock leave her with a soft wet touch. "We have to get a grip El."

"I think you have a pretty good grip already." She realizes then that her hands are tight where she's clenching his shoulders and she relaxes her grip, wiggles her fingers. She smiles. Her hearing is better and his hand on her back is slowing her down. She sits up, pulling away from him enough to look up and see his face.

"If you think all this means I'm helping you with that laundry when we get to my place you're sadly mistaken." His laugh spills from him and his hand stills on her back. He thinks that if this is the result of her cleaning the tub he's a little afraid to ask for her help with laundry. Who would have thought domestic chores could be so sexy.

"So, I'm doing laundry, shopping with you for groceries and cooking dinner? I'm feeling a little like a man slave."

Her eyes move slowly up and down him in a way that makes his thighs clench and his breathing slow. "You would do as a man slave and you don't even need a costume for that, I already have handcuffs. Now there's a game I might play." Her smile is absolutely wicked.

His eyes darken with the thoughts flashing through but he manages a small laugh. He lets himself imagine for just a second what being under her complete control would be like for him. She would be without mercy and visions of both heaven and hell crash through his head.

Her hand reaches around and pats his ass. "You're too easy. Come on El, this day is slipping away from us. Let's get going." She has returned to herself and he pulls up his jeans and steps back from her as she carefully scoots off the table. "What are you making for dinner?" The words leave her mouth naturally but feel so unnatural to her that the ambiguity swims in her brain.

"I don't know. Do you have a taste for anything? Spaghetti? Salmon? Lemon chicken? Steaks? Burgers? I'm pretty versatile in the kitchen." She arches a suggestive eyebrow at him and his grin widens. "Liv…"

"Let me think about it on the way there. We'll see what looks good." It's too corny to tell her that she does, even for him. She picks up her jeans and is turning the legs back to right side out as he picks up the other pieces of discarded clothing. He wonders what part of him thinks it's normal to stand in his kitchen with a naked Olivia and discuss what they're going to have for dinner. It's impossible for him to grasp that this is his life, even for the moment. They have never gone grocery shopping together. They've stopped at the corner store for beer of snack on the way to her house once or twice but nothing like this. He always bought whatever Kathy told him to buy and still buys the same thing now when he shops for himself. He suddenly doesn't want that to be obvious so he decides to let Olivia take the lead when they get there. Grocery shopping seems like an odd thing to make him a little nervous and yet somehow it does. They both finish dressing there in the middle of the kitchen before she ducks back into the bathroom.

When she comes out he steps in and throws a few things into a bag which he drops on top of the laundry. He slings a bag over his shoulder and lifts the basket. She pulls the large container of liquid detergent off the top and carries it in one hand while she pulls the door open. She hears his voice come from behind her in a low whisper as they move down the hall.

"So, you'd play manslave..."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOtbc…

There you guys go, I hope you enjoyed it, now on to the grocery store in the next chapter. Let me hear your thoughts.


	9. Chapter 9

Undercover Days-Chapter 9

**Sexually explicit, adult only, under 18 please exit now.**

Olivia is looking at the yogurt flavors, well staring at them anyway. She hasn't been in a grocery store for months because in Oregon they shopped at open markets and convenience stores. Now she's standing in a grocery store picking out yogurt and deciding what Elliot should make her for dinner. Elliot will be making her dinner at her apartment while doing laundry. The same apartment in which they have been having marathon sex since she returned, with the exception of that incident on _his_ kitchen table just an hour ago. That's why she's staring at the yogurt, because her mind doesn't have one single cell that isn't currently working so she is unable to make a decision. Peach cobbler, key lime pie and apple turnover, she wonders when yogurts became dessert. She leans forward as though looking at them more closely is going to help her somehow.

"Liv, is there a flavor that you're looking for?" She seems almost relieved that he has rescued her from this task that is all at once both meaningless and overwhelming.

"Yeah, strawberry or strawberry banana or vanilla. I know it's only been a few months since I was in an actual grocery store but I don't remember there being so many choices." He's standing behind her and slightly to the side when his long arm brushes her shoulder and grabs two containers off the shelf. He loads two more before leaning near her ear.

"How many do you want?" It's almost a whisper and despite the chilly air of the cooler, heat spreads down her neck and chest.

"Six." She's smiling now while he grabs two more and drops them unceremoniously into the cart. He leans on the cart and begins to move it down the aisle while she strolls behind him watching his ass and listening to the one squeaky wheel. He pauses to put in milk, cheese and two cans of whipped cream and turns to her.

"What do you want for dinner?" He's grinning as he asks because the whipped cream has caused his mind to wander and visions of naked Olivia are floating around in his head.

"Surprise me and I promise I'll like it." Her eyes travel up to his face and he's grinning at her. She blushes, suddenly feeling like her words have a double meaning.

"I have a surprise I know you'll like." He wiggles his eyebrows and she can't contain the laughter.

"You're such an asshole." He doesn't care what she calls him as long as she keeps laughing as she does it. He thinks he may be addicted to the sound of it.

She adds orange juice to the basket as he watches her and then stands at the handle and begins to push. He steps next to her and leads her to the meat department where he throws several packages in the cart. She's watching him again. Trying to absorb this part of him she doesn't know, to integrate it with the man she knows better than she knows herself. He's carefully choosing ingredients, now in the produce department. She sees him smell the tomatoes as he picks each one and something in the way he is gently handling them makes her feel warm. When he lifts the cantaloupe into his large hand and squeezes it he turns toward her, picking up a second one in his other hand he holds them suggestively in front of his chest.

"Melons?" She rolls her eyes at him and shakes her head in disbelief. She takes one from him and sets it in the cart.

"Did Dickie teach you that? It seems like something a twelve year old would do." He laughs out loud and pops a grape into his mouth. "Eating that grape is theft, I could arrest you." Her eyes spark with mischief as she speaks.

"You gonna cuff me or strip search me first because I'm in either way." She can't believe that this is how they talk to each other now, flirting and teasing without mercy.

It arouses her in the quickening of her pulse and the warmth curling inside her.

"That doesn't surprise me." He holds a grape up for her and she takes it, sucking it between her lips for a second before biting into it. In an instant he isn't laughing anymore, just watching her mouth intently. He wants to kiss her, to taste the juice of that grape on her tongue but he knows here in the store she would stiffen against him. "El, you have to stop looking at me like that." Her voice is soft, almost a whisper.

"Like what?" His eyes never leave her lips; even after he answers her but his voice betrays him.

She reaches out and gently tips his chin up slightly so he looks her in the eyes. "Like you're about to have me for your last meal." His laughter is loud and quick and fills the space around them. He doesn't want her to be uncomfortable so he turns back to shopping. He picks up two onions and snaps the top of a plastic bag before opening it to drop them inside.

"You know I don't eat raw onion." She almost runs into him with the cart when he comes to an abrupt stop.

"Liv, I've eaten with you for eight years. You only eat cooked onions, you hate when your salad has big chunks of lettuce in it, you only eat meat well done, you don't like cherry tomatoes because they're hard to cut, you put ketchup on your eggs, you hate olives, you love orange juice but like it with very little pulp, your favorite bagel…" He's going a million miles an hour when she cuts him off.

"OKAY, okay, I get your point. I didn't realize you were paying such close attention all these years." He's still standing in front of the cart with his arms crossed and she moves it forward, bumping him lightly. He relents and steps aside, going back to perusing the fresh fruits and vegetables. He adds strawberries and raspberries to the cart along with spinach.

It's not until they're in the car that he turns to her. "What's going on with you? You're staring at me like you're watching a perp." She's surprised at first but even as he says it she knows it's true. Her head drops back against the seat and she closes her eyes for a moment. When she turns to him her eyes are dark and glassy and her cheeks are flushed.

"I don't know this side of you El. A few days ago I was sitting in a bus station on the other side of the country trying to recall every detail of your face. Then I came home and there has been all of this between us and it's just been a lot to process. I know part of you so well and then there is this whole other side I don't know at all. I thought about the sex before, I knew it would probably happen but I never thought about the rest of it." She's looking out the window now.

He knows she's blushing and he wants to address the situation but his brain stopped all function when she told him she has had thoughts about them having sex. The word _fantasize_ keeps coming into his mind and the images that come with it make his dick feel like it's made of concrete. There is no imagining now, he doesn't have to guess how she'll look naked, he already knows. The scene in his head of her on the bed with her hand between her legs and her breasts arching up into the darkness is a full Technicolor image with plenty of detail. Closing his eyes makes it worse, or better depending on how he thinks about it. He knows he should be saying something to her and he hopes he looks somewhat contemplative instead of just dumbstruck by desire.

"I know what you mean, I do. You were gone for so long and now, well now there's all this and I feel like I need to keep touching you to make sure it's real. To see if you're going to haul off and punch me or not. This morning when you were talking to the hotdog vendor I felt like you do now. I wanted to know who else you knew by name on the street, what other habits had been part of your everyday life that I know nothing about. At the same time you're the Liv I have known all along. I just think it'll take a little time for it all to blend together." She's looking at him now, taking in his words and accepting that even this sharing is something new between them. Not just something new, but something more too. They sit comfortably in the silence for a minute, adjusting to each other until he can't wait anymore.

"So, did I hear you say you used to think about us having sex?" He's grinning again and the smile tugs at something familiar inside her.

She rolls her eyes at his incorrigible thoughts. "Yes Elliot, I thought about us having sex."

"When?" His voice has dropped and she swears she can feel the heat radiating off him.

"Do you want the day and time?" She knows what he's asking but she wants him to work for it, earn it.

"No, not exactly. I want to know when you would think about it, what you were doing. Did it pop into your head while we were sitting across from each other doing paper work? While you were napping in the crib? Outside the interrogation room? While we were eating lunch?" His voice descends with each question, deeper into the idea of her fantasizing about him. He lifts his brow in question as he looks at her and the light in his eyes flickers with heat. He wraps his hands around the steering wheel, needing to feel something solid.

She's wet just from listening to him as though her body is now voice activated and set to Elliot. She can feel the want burn between her legs and her nipples tender where they are now pressed tightly inside her bra. She knows what he wants from her but she isn't used to this, she has never been this with him. She takes a moment to gather her courage, reaching into the depths of the desire to find some strength.

"All of the above El, some days more than others especially after your marriage ended. Sometimes while we were sitting at our desks and you would be chewing on those damn pens or sipping your coffee I would think about what it would be like to have your mouth on me. If we were in interrogation with a suspect and you were working on him I would think about what it would be like to smooth my hands over your skin while all that strength and anger rippled beneath my touch." Her fingers flutter against her leg with the memory and he waits for her to continue. "Sometime when I would go nap in the crib I was too full of adrenaline and caffeine to sleep so I would turn on my side and slip my hand into my pants and think of you taking me there against the wall until I came. I could usually sleep then. At home it was different; this week is not the first time your name has been moaned from my bed." He groans deeply from his seat and when he speaks his voice is the lowest sound from the belly of some shiny instrument.

"Jesus Liv, we have to go…." He's already starting the car.

"Back to the apartment Elliot, I know, now. Go now." He's pulling out and she's trying to breathe but she can see his hard on pressing to be released and she knows that in their minds they're already fucking and their bodies are in desperate need of catching up. She curls her hands over her thighs and clenches, aware that if she gives in and touches him right now they're going to have sex in the car. She would really like the bed, or the sofa, or the kitchen table or the wall or the floor, hell bent over the kitchen counter would work at the moment but they need to get home.

Traffic is heavy and so the blaze within her has time to settle to a quiet simmer as they move slowly down the streets. She is staring out the window at the dirt clinging in uneven lines on the back of the bright yellow taxi in front of them. She's trying to think about something other than the heat licking up her thighs. She should have more control of herself but since the moment he touched her some wild thing inside her feels unleashed. It terrifies her. It excites her.

He reaches over and takes her hand from her thigh, holding it on the seat between them. His thumb is brushing over her wrist where the quick tempo of her pulse races just beneath her skin. She wants him to keep touching her. Her head snaps up when she realizes this may be the first time in her life that it has actually mattered to her who it is that's touching her. She lifts their hands and brushes her lips over his knuckles, kisses each finger. When they stop at the light she slips the tip of his index finger between her lips and sucks. He gasps loudly as he watches her lips wrap around his finger and sink down. He feels her teeth graze over his skin and he presses his hips into his seat to try and calm the throbbing in his dick.

The blasting of a horn from behind them causes him to jump and she releases his finger from her mouth and drops their hands to her thigh. He pulls his hand from hers and squeezes her leg before sliding his hand up and cupping her. He can feel the heat seeping through her jeans, pressing into his palm. He hears her sigh and desperately wants to turn and look at the expression he knows is on her face but he has to keep his eyes on the road. He moves his hand up and pops the button on her jeans and has the zipper down before she can think. He feels her stiffen and is gripped with fear for a moment when he thinks she's going to push him away. Instead she tips up her hips, sliding down a little and spreading her legs wider as she scoots over on the seat. He's almost thankful for the next light. He works his hand into her pants and presses his fingers against her folds until they separate and he sinks into the hot wet heat of her.

She's angled on the seat with her head resting on his shoulder, as his fingers circle her clit she moans and pushes herself up into his hand. His fingers are immediately soaked in her wetness. A voice in her head tells her she should stop this, sit up and collect herself but instead her hips arch in rhythm to his hand. He stops suddenly and pulls his hand away, grasping the wheel to make a turn that is careening a bit too wide. She pulls herself up in the seat, still sitting near him and tries to steady her breathing.

"Sorry, that was a little too close. We're almost there." He swings the car into a parking space and they both get out, she struggling to do up her pants. They pile the groceries and laundry into their arms as though it isn't lust driving their movements. When they get inside he sets his bundles down and immediately disappears to make a second trip. She knows he's rushing through what they have to get done so he can get to what he wants to do. She's unloading groceries into her fridge that she didn't even see him buy. She's sliding the yogurts onto the shelf when she feels him behind her. He tugs her from the hips, letting the door swing closed before turning her around and sliding his lips over hers. She's hungry for him, for the pure heat of him and she tilts her head and deepens the kiss to reach that place of warmth.

She breaks from him and smiles, content to take her time now that they're back behind closed doors. He squeezes her against him before loosening his grip and whispering in her ear.

"I want to see you Liv. I want you to masturbate for me like you would when I wasn't here." Goose bumps run across her skin in waves and he feels the warm breath of her chuckle deeply against his neck.

"You want a show Stabler?" She purrs the words into his ear and he pulls her tightly against him again.

"Maybe you could pick your favorite toy from that magic drawer next to your bed and show me what you used to do." He feels her breath quicken against him and her hips rock into his erection.

"Are we back to the vibrators?" She's still laughing softly. "Why is it so important to you to know which one is my favorite?"

"Because I want to see how I measure up to your fantasy." She laughs out loud now and even though she can't see his face she knows the expression he's wearing.

"Which one?" She whispers it before sucking his ear lobe between her lips and all his humor evaporates.

"How many are there?" His voice is low and rasping out with his breath as her tongue works it's way down his neck. She hums a sound against his skin and he feels the vibration of it in his fingertips on her back. He flattens his hand and pulls her tighter against his hips, against the solid length of his hard on.

She answers him in a small gasp, "a lot." He growls as he drops his head to her neck but she's pulling away from him and it takes him a second to realize her phone is ringing. She steps away and pulls it from her coat pocket. By way of an explanation she glances over her shoulder at him, "only a handful of people even know I'm home."

"Benson." As he hears her say her name his world tilts a little, shifts under his feet and causes him to put his hand out to the counter to steady himself. He's heard her answer the phone like that a million times, half of them from the other end. He wonders if he'll ever be her partner again and something inside him tightens painfully.

He can tell from the conversation that it's Cragen and that she's going to meet him on Monday at one. He doesn't mean to listen but she doesn't walk away either. He wants to tell her it's too soon, too soon for them to have to sort through the tangled mess they've made of their lives. He wants to tell her that if he could have his way they would never leave this apartment. He wants to tell her that he loves her, that it has grown within him for so long it's just part of him now. When she turns back to him her eyes are wide from that brief glimpse of the real world. She walks back to him and drops her head against his chest, sliding her arms around his waist and holding on. He squeezes her hard against him and wonders why it feels like they're saying good bye. They stand for a long time, the mood completely different than just moments ago. He feels her stomach grumble against him and he smiles.

"We should get these groceries put away so I can start laundry and dinner. It sounds like you're starving." The domestic content of his words comes too easily and feels surreal. It's as though they have stepped into their own world and she thinks of those holiday snow globes with the small houses inside. Her hands fall away from him before she steps back and busies herself with the bags of food. He's still standing there when she turns back to him.

"Move it Stabler, I'm hungry. Let's get this show in the road." He seems to snap out of it and takes his basket of clothes, disappearing into the laundry room. She has put away most of the groceries by the time he reappears but left the chicken on the counter for him. He opens it and is rummaging through her utensil drawer when she comes and stands next to him to watch what he's doing.

"Do you have a meat tenderizer, one of those hammers with a spiky side?" She reaches under the sink and hands him a rock about the size of his fist with one lumpy side.

He looks at her with his eyebrow raised and she smiles. "Hey, it's what my mother used. It's a good rock and it works better than those hammers. Try it before you laugh." She watches him rinse the rock and lay out the chicken breasts before starting to pound them. These are things she has never seen his hands do before and watching them fascinates her. His knuckles are still shaded purple but there is some yellow mixed in now and she knows they're getting better. In a matter of moments he has the chicken beaten into large thin sheets of meat. He moves around her kitchen with ease, grabbing a bowl and mixing ricotta cheese, mozzarella, spinach and spices. She jumps up on the counter and sits watching as he performs for her.

"You actually look like you know what you're doing." He tosses the ingredients into the air and catches them in the bowl, smiling at her.

"Hey, I watch the food network, I know all about cooking, or at least how to look like I'm cooking." He throws a pinch of salt over his shoulder and calls out that it's for luck. She laughs and tries to remember the last time someone cooked for her in this kitchen. She thinks it was Casey when she was so sick with the flu a few months before she left when Elliot was in his brooding hostile phase. He sprays a cookie sheet and cuts the chicken into long strips. He wishes he had something good to feed her while she's sitting watching him but raw chicken just won't work. He smears the filling down the strips and then rolls them up and puts them on the pan.

"Where did you learn to make this? I can see you watching the food network but not writing down a recipe." He grins broadly because she is so right.

"I learned how to _look_ like I could cook from watching but I learned to actually make a few meals from a dvd that Maureen bought me one year for fathers day. This was one of the recipes on it." She can tell from looking at him that there's more.

"What was the dvd? Julia Childs?" The name rolls from her and she continues to smile at him but images of her mother, drunk and trying to recreate a Julia Childs meal rush into her head. Her stomach turns slowly as memories both good and bad tumble through her. She feels haunted by her past at moments like this when it rises inside her like a ghost she can't banish. She turns her attention back to Elliot in time to see him bend to put the pan in the oven. She kicks her foot softly and meets the firm flesh of his ass.

"Hey, hey." He turns and grabs her ankle, releasing his grip and running his hand up her leg, stopping at the top of her thigh.

"You didn't answer me." She looks at him defiantly and he strokes her leg, dipping his hand to her inner thigh. "Distracting me won't help." He kisses her and she lets him, leaning into him and slanting her mouth against his. His palm brushes over her breast and she moans. When he breaks the kiss she lifts her brow and looks at him.

"Okay, it was Cooking for Dummies." Her laughter rings out around him. He fails miserably at looking hurt so he moves away from her and goes to change the laundry. Her laughter follows him and he wishes he could bottle it and take it with him. He wants to ask her what happened to her in Oregon that brought down some of her walls, left her somehow softer. All he knows is that as hard as it was when she left it was necessary for her to come back to him like this. When he returns to the kitchen a few moments later she's standing at the counter with salad items, cutting them and dropping them into a large bowl.

"I thought I'd help so I'm making the salad." She's kicked off her shoes and as she stands there in her bright kitchen he soaks in this beautiful image of her. He can't recall ever seeing her so relaxed.

"Well since you're making the salad, I'll start on desert.' His hand slides into the silky strands of her hair and moves them to the side so his lips can settle on the back of her neck. She arches back into him and as his tongue moves down the top of her spine and back up to her neck she stops chopping. She makes a small sound at the back of her throat and he lifts his head.

"You stopped making the salad." His mouth drops back down as soon as he finishes speaking.

"You're having desert before dinner." Her voice trembles a little as a shiver passes through her.

"It isn't really desert without the whipped cream." He whispers against her ear, kissing down the edge of it. She tilts her head and pushes her hips back and rubs her ass against his protruding cock.

"How long do we have before dinners ready?" His Fingers tighten in her hair before his mouth opens more and moves hotly into the dip of her shoulder. His other hand moves beneath her shirt lightly stroking her side. He hears her stomach rumble in answer to the scent of the chicken and cheese filling the room.

He releases her, breathing heavily as he drops his forehead to her shoulder. "Not long enough I'm afraid and it sounds like your body's priority is food right now." She picks the knife back up and begins to slowly cut into a cucumber.

"It may be my stomach's priority but the rest of me has other ideas." He chuckles deeply behind her and she almost sets down the knife and turns in his arms to take what she needs to make the aching stop. She tells herself they do need to eat but she knows he wants to talk after dinner and that's the part she doesn't want to get to. She isn't ready to try to and give him answers she doesn't have yet herself. If she starts to think about it all now she's afraid it will be like pulling a thread on a tapestry and watching it all unravel. He checks on the chicken and puts green beans on the stove while she concentrates on her task. He's cleaning berries in the sink the next time she looks and she continues working within the comfortable silence. She wants to believe that these peaceful moments are glimpses into a future they could have but it feels like this is all an illusion.

She finishes the salad and covers it. While putting things in the fridge she puts her hand on his back.

"Do you want anything to drink? I'm making tea." He laughs softly.

"No, I'll have milk with dinner and I'm okay for now." She reaches around him and fills her mug with water, he nudges her with his hip and she beams at him for a second before going to the microwave. She takes her steaming mug to the table and picks a small dry bundle from a box, carefully dropping the dark brittle ball into the water. She watches as the leaves soften and begin to drift in the water. Within a moment the bud opens and there's a vibrant bloom sending an amazing scent up with the heat. She wraps her hands around the cup feeling the last few days very much like the flower, forced by heat to open up and expand within her world. She lifts her eyes to watch the cause fussing in the kitchen.

She grows warm just watching him move, his muscular frame flexing as he takes the chicken out of the oven and puts the berries back into the fridge. She clears the mail off the table to distract herself from watching him wondering when it became such a past time for her. She doesn't remember studying him before she left but somewhere in the last eight years she has learned the language of every shift in his stance. Maybe it was just being near him all those years, some sort of osmosis that allowed her to just absorb the knowledge of his every mood. He's setting things on the table and she gets the plates and silverware marveling at the dance they do in this small space without being in each others way. It seems they have always occupied the same space without bumping into each other. She feels the rhythm between them even now; a rhythm she thought belonged only to their partnership. She knows this is important but her chest tightens as her brain swirls and tries to solidify exactly what it means.

"Dinner is served." He pauses by her chair and leans down to kiss her and for a second she wishes they were back in bed where her body could talk and her brain could rest.

"It look great El, I'm actually impressed." He colors slightly and goes to get his milk.

"Well let's hope it tastes as good as it looks." He swings his leg over the chair and sits down and she smiles at how comfortable and relaxed he seems with her. She wants to know why he's so calm now. What did he do with all his anger? What really happened to him while she was gone?

He watches her take the first bite and a look of pleasure spreads across her face. "Wow, it's amazing. I mean, I guess I shouldn't be so shocked but it's really good." She takes another bite and he's grinning from ear to ear.

"I'm glad you like it. It's not the only dish I can cook." He pauses for a second, feeling like a kid on a first date. It's so strange to him because this is Olivia and still for some reason he can't figure out, he's nervous. "What's the best dish you make?" It should be a simple question. The images of her mother return and she tenses for a second but as she really thinks about it the jolt of anxiety leaves her. When she was young, maybe seven or eight, she used to help her mother in the kitchen. She would kneel on a stool near the counter and stir or mix whatever her mother gave her. Her mother was usually in a good mood then, not far enough into the bottle to be dangerous and she would talk about the dish; explain everything to Olivia as if she was running one of her classes. Olivia had thrived on the attention, absorbing the time with her mother as much as she could. She already knew there was a point in the evening when her mother would change and the fun would abruptly end. She had already learned to watch her mother closely, looking for the signs so she could disappear and not be caught in her wrath.

"Liv? Are you still with me?" Elliot's voice brings her back and she turns her focus on him. His innocent questions asked in a desire to get to know her keep stirring up old painful memories. This is where she would shut other men down. This is one of those moments she would throw up a false smile and hand them a fairytale that would appease them and simultaneously eliminate them from her life. They never even knew what they did wrong. They never saw it coming. Her eyes move up to his and she makes a conscious effort not to hide. Her body tightens as she forces herself to hold to the truth.

"I make a killer lasagna and a quite a few good French and Italian dishes. I just…" He's smart enough to recognize that she's struggling with something and he knows she has to get where ever she's going on her own steam. He keeps eating and waits for her to find her way. "I just learned certain things because my mother would get drunk while she was cooking so we didn't often make it to the end of the recipe. If we did it usually burned in the oven because she would pass out while it was cooking. She only got up early on work days so I didn't do breakfast, still don't. I fed myself cereal or poptarts most of the time." He's watching her closely, trying to fill in the spaces between her words. "When we would start cooking she already had only one or two drinks and she would be fun, pulling everything out and covering the counters with ingredients. She would open the recipe book and smooth back the pages to some complicated gourmet meal. She would hoist me up onto a stool to help her and start teaching me all about what we were going to make. It always started out so wonderful." She stops and takes a bite and sips her tea, gathering the images from her past to hand to him. "Then she would cross that point and things would turn sloppy and ugly. She would mess up the ingredients, things would start getting knocked over and she would become careless and angry. I was always anxious then because I was afraid if I left she would cut herself trying to chop something or she would catch the kitchen on fire. If I stayed I was directly in the path of her crashing mood and the only one within arms reach of her rage. It was always like that with her, a cross between Norman Rockwell and Salvador Dali." Her small smile is more sad than anything else and he pushes down the pain and anger her description has caused in his chest. This isn't about him.

"It must have been hard as a kid to try to figure out that environment. As messed up as it sounds though it probably gave you your remarkable ability to read people. If you think about it from the time you were a child you must have learned to watch her and determine her mood just from her stance and expression. As you got older you learned to read her body language well enough to know what she was going to do next even when she seemed unpredictable. Those are some of the things that make you so good at your job. I am sorry that your childhood was so painful though, you deserved better." He's speaking slowly, thinking as he goes and the entire time she's staring at him. In his head he sees clearly the scene she has painted for him and he wants to walk into that kitchen and lift Olivia into his arms and take her to a different life. The problem is, then she wouldn't be who she is now. A different life would have taken her in a different direction, possibly not even the police force. That would mean their paths would never have crossed and as selfish as it is he won't consider that as an option. He continues eating and she continues staring until he begins to worry that he has done something terribly wrong.

He waits a few more minutes before continuing, "I like knowing about the things that made you into my Olivia whether they're good memories or bad ones. It seems to me the memories of your mother are a big mixture of both."

She loves him at that moment for seeing the whole picture, for understanding that there were moments her mother loved her and she was happy and there were moments that were hell. It wasn't all just one thing. It wasn't all alcohol and neglect or abuse and it wasn't all sunshine and happiness. When people hear her mention an alcoholic mother they just pity her and assume that it means her whole life was awful. She hates that but she doesn't see pity in Elliot. She sees understanding. She sees a man that just called her _my Olivia_.

Her hand slides slowly across the corner of the table and wraps around his, she squeezes. "Thank you for understanding." It's all she can manage to say but he sees the other emotions swimming in her dark eyes and he nods his head. He knows she doesn't talk about her life and that each thing she dredges up from her past is hard for her.

His smile widens, "so, Italian is a bonus because as you know, I love Italian food. How is it you have kept that secret all these years?" The mood lightens and she's grateful.

"Because I had to know you wanted to be with me because of the sex and not just because I can cook Italian." He bursts out laughing and stabs another chicken roll with his fork. "I don't cook on work nights, I'm too tired and we always grabbed dinner after work. I do most of my cooking on my days off and you had standing plans with your family." She says it casually and he waits for the awkwardness that doesn't come with the mention of his family. It's another topic for later.

"Well, I want to taste some of this cooking so I think you should offer to make me dinner." He lifts his eyebrows and looks expectantly in her direction.

"If I start cooking for you it will ruin your man-slave image but maybe I can think of a way for you to earn it." As if on cue to her man-slave comment the buzzer on the dryer goes off, calling him to his duties. His thighs tighten as he thinks of the many ways in which he could earn dinner from her. He takes his last bite of food and stands.

"If you can't think of a way I have a few hundred suggestions." She's laughing again he just stands there watching her and enjoying it. "You work on an idea. Right now I have to go take off your girly socks and change the laundry. Do you have anything you need thrown in?"

"No, I haven't even been home long enough to have a full load of laundry to do." She remembers his socks in her hamper but doesn't say anything to him because she likes the idea of them staying in there. She clears the table and starts doing dishes while he's gone. From the hallway she hears him singing as he folds the clothes and the scent from the dryer floats toward her. She can't hear the words over the spin cycle of the washer but the rise and fall of his voice is oddly comforting. It occurs to her this may be the first time she has heard him sing outside the occasional happy birthday at work.

As she finishes the dishes she decides on a bottle of red wine. Nerves flutter in her stomach and she takes a healthy swallow of her wine before topping it off and pouring his. Comfortable on the sofa she turns on the food network and starts watching. It's remarkably an Italian show with a woman that Olivia feels has a head far too big for her body. The image of a cooking bobble head comes to her and she's laughing to herself as Elliot sits down. He sets a basket of clothes on the floor near him that still need to be folded.

"Oh brushing up on your Italian cooking. That's a good idea." He picks up his wine and sits next to her, stretching his arm out behind her and his legs out in front of him. He feels long and solid next to her.

She chuckles softly and relaxes into him. His hand strokes through her hair. He waits while she sips her wine and the silence grows between them.

"We should talk Liv."

"I thought we were El."

"Funny. You know what I mean. As much as I don't want to we should talk about this, about all of it." She can fell his breathing increase and she knows part of him is scared and it makes her feel better that they're in sync on this too. She decides to go with honesty.

"I don't want to. Not yet. I just don't know what to say." He's become so still she has to concentrate to feel him breathing.

"Even if we don't figure it all out tonight, lets at least see where we are now." He can feel the tension lock her shoulders and the rise in them as she takes a deep breath.

"You go first." Her voice is so low he barely hears it above the filling ingredients being spouted on the television. His hand tightens in her hair and he tips her face to his.

"I know I want this, I know I want to give it a shot with you. I feel like you've been inside me for a long time. The problem is I also want you as my partner. I want to be the one that has your back. The other problem is even if we stop this now I don't think I can stop how I feel. Not now."

She waits for a moment and he can feel her mind racing. "You haven't even gotten to how your kids are going to feel, or Kathy. Then there's Cragen and if this becomes public everyone will think it's been going on all along. There have always been rumors about us. It could call into question our past cases. Certainly Gitano would be in question. What happens then? Can we even stay at the same precinct? I don't know how I would feel about doing the job and not seeing you every day."

He can see the panic in her eyes and he doesn't want this to blow apart before it has a chance. "Wait, let's slow down. First things first. You haven't said it Olivia." She doesn't need an explanation to know what he wants. She closes her eyes and leans her head back against his arm. There is so much at stake it terrifies her. She knows how to be his partner but she doesn't know how to do this with him or anyone else for that matter. Still, she wants this and she knows it's always been him. Other than being on the force she has never wanted something so much just for herself but she can't accept that this one thing in life could cost her everything else. She's about to tell him about this internal debate when she opens her eyes and he's looking at her with that smoldering intensity that makes her pause.

"I want this El, I do, too much." There really isn't any other truthful answer. They've been everything else to each other. In her mind every step they ever took together was leading them to this and now that they've come this far she can't imagine it any other way. There's just no road back. He leans in and kisses her, his tongue sliding into her mouth and stroking hers in a calming rhythm. He's the only person she has ever known that can sooth her just by touching her, that can hear her when she doesn't speak.

He wants to tell her that there's no such thing as wanting something too much but he knows in his heart that it isn't true. He can feel her fear in the tremor of her lips and the fluttering of her heart. He asks God to make this easy for them, to give her this one thing in her life that she can hold on to. He thinks it may be a sin to pray for something that will make her happy when it would make him happy too but he does it anyway. When she tilts her head and cradles his with her hand to deepen the kiss he stops thinking about God. She breaks the kiss and he offers her a small smile, pressing his forehead against hers.

"We know all we need to know for tonight Liv. We'll figure out a little more tomorrow and then the next day until we have it all sorted out." She believes him because he's all she really knows when it comes to having faith. She reaches for her wine and takes a drink, letting the warmth blossom in her chest. She's relieved that they aren't going to discuss it anymore and now wants just to push it all out of her head. He's folding clothes next to her and as she watches him shake out one of his button down shirts she decides to do something for him. She leaves the room for a moment and when she comes back she's holding a pillow from her bed which she tosses on the end of the sofa. Elliot has a look of utter confusion as she reaches over and takes one of his shirts from his hands.

"It's alright Liv, you don't have to help." She finishes off the wine in her glass and looks at him.

"I'm not." There is something about the way she's looking at him that draws his undivided attention and he sits back, squinting slightly as he tries to read her. Her eyes are dark and he notices that she turned off the kitchen light as she came back out. She's standing just in front of him with his shirt clutched in her fist. She sets it down and then pulls her shirt slowly over her head.

"You asked me for something earlier." She reaches behind her and undoes her bra, sliding it down her arms with a nudge of her shoulder and dropping it behind her. He freezes, holding himself so still she has to watch him blink to see any movement at all.

"And I'm going to give it to you." His eyes widen slightly in surprise and then desire washes over his face as he realizes where this is going. "Put your hands behind your head El, you're not allowed to touch me. It's as though you aren't here, remember?" He nods his head slowly one time and then folds his arms behind his head and sits back. The bulge in his jeans is already apparent. She undoes her belt and jeans and slides them down her hips and steps out of them. Standing before him in just her underwear, he is once again struck by her beauty. He locks his hands tighter to keep from reaching for her. She pulls his shirt over her shoulders but doesn't close it. She takes her time folding back the cuffs so he can get his fill of looking for a moment. She lies down on the sofa on her back with her head on the pillow and her knees bent so her feet are braced against his thigh. She takes a deep breath and his eyes linger on her breasts as she sinks back and tries to relax. She closes her eyes and licks her lips. He's already so hard he could come and she hasn't even started yet. He brings down his arms so he can turn his head and watch comfortably.

She lays one hand on her abdomen and trails the other down between her breasts and around to the outside. Her fingers are just grazing the skin, dusting over the fine hair against her golden flesh. Elliot has to remind himself to breathe. He watches her gasp when she stokes the spot on the side of her breast that his mouth found just last night. The hand on her abdomen is tracing along the top of her underwear and the muscles there clench and dance beneath her skin. She knows her body and he's noting every move as her breaths shorten and her fingers grasp her nipple. A rumbling begins in her chest, a low moan swimming but not surfacing.

As she pulls her nipple between her fingers Olivia thinks of Elliot only it isn't the fantasy anymore, it's actually him. She thinks about that first moment he kissed her, the way his mouth tasted and his scent filled her. She remembers the smooth and impossibly hard plains of his chest, the chiseled dips between each muscle and how his heart beat tapped against her palm. Her brain flips through the sensations, the ridge along his hip, the hard dip and swell of his ass…she's moaning now. Her hand moves into her underwear, her fingers slipping past her slick lips into the heat.

As her fingers start rubbing, he desperately wants her to slow down, to take her time like he would but he can't ask her. His dick actually hurts and he's trying to figure out how to undo his pants to relieve the pressure without moving when she helps him. Her feet suddenly lift and in the seconds it takes her to pull her underwear down her long slender legs he pops the button and drops the zipper. He tries not to sigh out loud but as he turns to look back at her everything else in his head just stops.

Her feet press into his thigh as her hips rise to accept the fingers she has pushed slowly inside herself. In that moment he realizes he greatly underestimated how hard it would be to keep his hand to himself. He watches the line of her thighs, the wetness glistening as her fingers plunge in rhythm and her thumb pushes against her clit. He glances up to her other hand tugging at her nipple, the hard tip squeezed and then massaged by her fingertips. Her face is flushed, her lips parted, moistened repeatedly by her tongue. The sounds she's making are like purring and sex and moaning all twisted together. He can't watch it all at once and his eyes flit from place to place trying not to miss anything.

Olivia is only vaguely aware that it's his thigh under her feet. She sheds her underwear, lost in the thought of him. She thinks about that first time he entered her, rolling them so he was on top and coming up on his arms. He was a wall of muscle over her, his thick cock sliding at her entrance. She slides her fingers inside herself as she remembers the slow tight fit of him, the way he pushed past her narrow walls and sank into the deepest part of her. Her fingers were pressed into his ass, feeling the power of him as he started to move and she was unable to speak but she wanted all of it. She wanted the hard hammering strength of him to drive into her, to burn her up with the heat of it. He was plunging into her and now she slams her fingers rapidly into herself remembering all of it as she tips over the edge. His large rough hands moving over her, his hot mouth branding her and his body driving into her, pounding, arching, coming, crying out…all of it blends and flashes behind her eyes as she seizes and lifts off the sofa.

Her toes dig into his thigh, curling and holding on, the strength of her legs pushing him over on the cushion. Her hips rise up, her spine bows and his name rips from her lips as she crashes and careens in a hard choppy rhythm. He grabs his dick and squeezes hard, the pain choking off the orgasm that threatens to rupture from him. He watches her stroke through the waves, clenching and rocking. Her hand is wet; moisture coats and runs high on her inner thighs. She's soaking and throbbing and he can't take any more. She opens her eyes and the desire between them is palpable, the scent of her is everywhere and he licks his lips, tasting the air. He peels his shirt off and stands up, shoving his jeans down his legs and stomping out of them. She stands, thinking they're going to the bedroom but he turns and she weaves on wobbly legs. He grabs her ass and lifts her, walking as she wraps her legs around him to hold on. He stops at the nearest wall by the door and rams into her as far as he can go. She cries out, pushing her shoulders back into the wall and her hips into him. Her thighs snap tightly against his sides but he rocks back and plunges into her again. His fingers are printing deep in her cheeks as he lunges again and again and again, lost in the fiery wet feel of her. He can't stop, can't slow down the urge to just be inside her. Her hands clutch his shoulders and the muscles move and bunch as he rockets past her clenching walls. Her hand curls around his neck, she's calling out his name, her body aching and burning with need. He pulls her forward, bending his knees and getting that little bit more under her, gaining just enough leverage to keep going. He slapping against her, hard and fast and she can't catch her breath. He's not holding anything back, he's fucking her, pleading and praying and unraveling all at once. His leg is trembling and he feels her tighten just before she slams against him, her body fisting around him so hard he has to hold her hips to his to keep from being squeezed out of her. He's growling out her name as his own orgasm breaks in searing white flashes and bursting heat. He thrusts up into her, the warmth of him filling her as he finally begins to slow.

He presses her into the wall, their bodies are damp and slick with sweat, trembling and twitching but he can't put her down quite yet. He has a flash of guilt, he didn't talk to her, didn't kiss or caress her, he just took her. His own lack of control scares him. He buries his face in the side of her neck, his head hitting the wall. He sucks the salty dampness from her skin and waits for their bodies to calm down enough for him to be able to coordinate setting her down. They're both still panting, his back is stinging from her nails but he figures he deserves it. She taps his shoulder and he slowly lifts his head. She places the gentlest kiss on his lips and smiles around the short gasps.

"Set me down El." Her thighs are screaming and her pelvic bone and hips feel bruised, not to mention her ass. She thinks there will be bruises of his hands on her tomorrow and she laughs easily. He carefully sets her on her feet and she stays leaning against the wall for support. The dryer beeps in the distance but he doesn't move. He watches her test her legs and wince slightly as she stretches them.

"Liv, I didn't mean to hurt you." She looks up at him, eyes flashing.

"Elliot if that's your idea of hurting me, then hurt me some more but first I do need a few minutes to recoup and a shower, definitely a shower." In the back of her brain a voice just keeps chanting _wow _and _ohmygod, _being with him sexually and emotionally is already more than she ever thought she'd find in life She kisses his chest and presses her ear to his heart. She listens to it slamming around and hugs him around the waist. He hugs her back and kisses the top of her head, completely amazed by her.

"For the record that was the hottest, sexiest, most erotic thing I have ever seen. Thank you."

"I'm quite sure you already did." She feels the chuckle roll out of him and knows that whatever dark fear of hurting her had threatened to cover him, it's passed. "I'm going to go get in the shower. Do you want to join me?"

"I have to change the laundry but I'll get in after I'm done."

"Speaking of laundry, here, I think this need to be washed again." She takes his shirt off her shoulders and hands it to him, then walks naked down the hall. He watches her until she disappears and then gathers up their clothes and heads into the laundry room. He smiles as he realizes they still have to get to desert.


	10. Chapter 10

Olivia felt the hot water rush over her sensitized skin

Undercover Days Chapter 10

**Warning, still sexually explicit and I don't think that's going to change.**

Disclaimer: They are not mine but I love them anyway.

A/N: Thanks to everyone for sticking with this story, I really appreciate your reading my work and as always comments are welcomed and greatly appreciated!

Olivia feels the hot water rush over her sensitized skin. Everything feels raw; some spots stinging where his mouth and body have left their mark. She's still throbbing from her orgasm and tiny shudders pulse randomly within her. She sighs deeply and stretches against the satisfying ache that echoes in all her muscles. In her head she's screaming from the panic that tries to consume her. She has never had this much sex in such a short time. She would like to think it's because she never stayed around anyone long enough but she knows the truth. She has never wanted anyone like this. The water feels good pounding into her muscles. She's hoping it pounds some sense into her. When she was in Oregon everything became so clear. She had spent hours thinking about the things that really mattered to her and what she really wanted out of her life. She forgot to work out what to do if she got them.

As if on cue Elliot steps into the bathroom. The rush of cool air from his entrance swirls around her legs before the steam settles back against her. The tension is seeping out of her and she imagines it swirling down the drain at her feet. In its place a heavy exhaustion fills her limbs. She leans back against him and slips her hands along the hard muscles of his thighs. He shifts his weight and they flex and push against her hands. She leans her head back against his shoulder and he feels her let go and relax into him. He rocks slightly back and forth in a motion of comfort that years of parenting have worn into him.

She wonders what it is some people have in them that makes it possible for them to love someone forever. She worries that she won't be able to continue loving him, that love is like some chemical your body produces and she's genetically short. Obviously neither of her parents had been capable of a real relationship so her chances of inheriting it were nonexistent. When she tries to picture her life with him five years from now nothing comes to her. Of course when she tries to picture her life without him five years from now nothing comes to her either. Maybe along with her shortcomings in the emotional department she's also missing the ability to visualize any kind of future. Her eyes have slipped closed and his arms tighten around her.

"Liv, if we're going to nap we probably shouldn't try to do it standing up in the shower." She feels the rumble of his chuckle vibrate through her and she smiles. Maybe she won't need to have enough love, maybe he'll just fill her up with it everyday and it'll be enough. Her head feels too full, too heavy now for all of this.

"Mmmm, you're right. Maybe we should take a nap before desert. It's not like we're on anyone's schedule but our own." She turns in his arms and kisses his chest before stepping back from him and finishing her hair.

He wants to ask her how long they'll be on their own schedule but the words stay tucked within him. If the thoughts scare him, he knows releasing them will terrify her. He watches her long fingers work through her hair, takes in the sight of her slender neck and the smooth slope of caramel flesh leading to her pointed breasts. At moments like this he can't believe he's here with her, naked and talking as though this has always been the rhythm of their lives. He washes himself but his eyes never really leave her. He commits to memory the curve of her breast, the line of her waist where it drops to her hips and the exact tone of her warm inviting skin. He trades places with her, letting the water rinse over him and jumping just slightly when he feels her hand on his waist.

"Turn around and I'll do your back." He smiles at her phrasing and turns obediently, stepping back slightly so he's out of the spray of water.

She can't derail her thoughts from how solid he is every time she touches him. Smoothing her soapy hands over the expanse of his shoulders she's in awe. His skin is soft and pliant under her fingers but even in his relaxed state she can feel the hard bundled power of him just beneath the surface. She lets her fingertips bounce over the line of his spine, stopping as she comes to his rather magnificent ass. She smiles as his dimples deepen while he clenches and tightens his muscles under her touch. She moves her hands over him in expanding circles making sure she covers every inch of him. She massages her fingertips into the muscles just above his shoulder blades and works his tension spots with the heel of her palm. He's beautiful in a way she knows he doesn't understand and she enjoys just allowing herself to touch him like this. Dragging her nails lightly up and down the length of him she hears his soft moan and chuckles warmly.

He turns around as her hands pull away. It's too much for her, this life that's suddenly hers and she really has no idea how to handle it. She tries to push the thoughts from her head and live within the moment. It was the life mantra of the group she was with in Oregon, _live within the moment but take action to protect the future. _She draws a deep breath of hot moist air and seeing that Elliot has finished she turns off the water. Her thighs ache as she steps over the side of the tub and she smiles.

"Let's get into some comfortable clothes and snuggle down on the couch. I'm sure there's something mind numbing on television." She turns around laughing at him.

"Did you seriously just use the word snuggle with me?" His deep laugh fills the small space clinging to the humidity and hovering in the air. She'd like to wrap it around herself.

"Yeah, I said snuggle, somehow I thought asking you to sit next to me so I could feel you up wouldn't sound as appealing." She arches her brow and cocks her head.

"Well you missed that call because I would have jumped at that offer." She rises on her toes and kisses him softly. "Either way we end up on the sofa together, right?" She winks at him and is already walking out of the room when he recovers.

"Damn." He smiles and trails after her, thoroughly enjoying the view.

He goes to the laundry basket now sitting in the corner of her room and pulls out some sweats. Even as she watches him part of her brain is trying to negotiate around his presence in her bedroom. His very naked presence in her bedroom. Fear crawls over her as she once again thinks of all the ways this could go wrong. His body arches as he pulls up his pants and she stills as the muscles in his back ripple with the movement. All these years he has been beside her in the world and here he is in all his naked glory. Now that she's here she can't imagine how she went so long without touching him. She drops her towel and pulls on a pair of shorts and a tank top. The dryer running has left the apartment warmer than usual.

She runs her hand through her hair and considers cutting it short. She hasn't had to maintain long hair for almost a decade and she had forgotten how annoying it could be. She walks into the bathroom and starts brushing it out when Elliot appears behind her. He smiles and takes the brush from her hand.

"Hey, what're you doing?" She's more surprised than anything. He takes her hand and leads her to the sofa where he sits and then tugs her hand to have her sit between his legs. She closes her eyes and tips her chin up just a bit. She hears him chuckle behind her.

"What's funny?" She fights the thought that he's laughing at her.

"I just half expected you to tell me you aren't twelve years old or to snag the brush and hit me with it." She should be angry but she knows his perception of her is right. She changed while she was away. Her instinct is to shut down, to keep her experiences to herself but she can't be that way with him. At least she can't if they're going to stand any kind of a chance with each other. He brushes her hair as they sit in silence for a moment. He can tell she's thinking about something so he waits.

"In Oregon there was a girl that I got to know. She seemed like a run away and I had the feeling she joined the group for the safe place to sleep and steady meals more than any real conviction. She told me her name was Sarah but I knew that wasn't right. She said she was 19 but I would put her a few years younger. She had the look El, that hollow wounded look that our victims always have." She pauses and he slides his fingers through the strands and starts to massage her scalp. She tips her head forward causing her hair to curtain her face and sighs softly. "When we would sit in a circle at night for meetings or just to talk, she was always uncomfortable. She was always braiding someone's hair to keep busy. When mine got long enough she started to ask me, so I let her. It was oddly soothing. I hadn't had anyone braid or brush my hair since I was very little." She falls quiet again and he knows her mind is skipping through her past. "I took notes on everything I knew about her so I could look her up when I got back to work. If anyone is out there looking for her she doesn't want them to find her. I'm sure where ever she really came from the environment was highly abusive. I'd like to find a way to help her though. She was the reason I let my hair grow, so she could braid it while I talked to her." He slides his hands down and begins to work the muscles of her neck with his strong hands and she moans softly from the easy pleasure of it.

"Tell me what you remember about her." He likes hearing her talk about Oregon and the things she did while she was there. The more he knows the less their time apart seems to matter.

"She's bright; she has a quiet intelligence that you'd like. She has a great smile although you don't get to see it very often. She's just a genuinely good person with a good heart and if she stays out there the world is just going to eat her up. She doesn't trust easily. She's from Kansas, she couldn't hide the accent anyway but she's vague about the town. What ever happened when she grew up gives her nightmares bad enough to propel her from bed to take midnight strolls. She's hyper reactive to any quick movements and just as aware whenever you approach her. When she did sit to talk it was always with her arms crossed and legs drawn up in full defensive posture. So far she's looked after herself out there but it's a matter of time before that group disbands and she'll have no where to go." She moans as his hands manipulate the muscles next to her spine, working their way back up to her neck. Her hair is still damp at her neck where his fingertips circle her hairline. He stops rubbing and brushes her hair out one more time before pulling her back against his chest and wrapping his arms around her.

"We should check the missing persons and run away files from Kansas. We don't want to send her back to a bad situation but maybe there's someone there that wants to help her. Maybe there's a grandmother or someone she cared about that's worried about her. If not we could at least try to get her to come here so we can help her get a job or take some classes. We have a lot of contacts here that could help us with finding her a place to live and getting her on her feet." His voice is filled with that parental concern he uses when talking about his children.

"You'd want to help me with this?" It amazes her that he cares about this girl because she does. For him life is that simple.

"Of course I would. I like your hair long so I at least owe her a thank you." To prove his point he grabs a fist full of her hair and turns her head so he can kiss her. His tongue dances and teases her before he tilts her head for a deeper taste of her. When he stops for air his eyes are dark and serious. "If you think there's a kid out there that can be saved, or course I'm in."

She loves him so completely at moments like this and yet it still surprises her when it wells up within her. She wonders how many of these moments she would have to string together to buy them a lifetime.

"Thank you." She wishes she could give him more than these words but she doesn't know what it would be. Other women out there would know. They would know what to give to a man that is so openly offering something to them. The only thing she ever saw her mother give anyone was her body. She pulls away from him and climbs next to him instead. He lifts his arm and she tucks herself against him, pulling the blanket over them both as she settles herself. He clicks on the television and starts flipping channels. She wonders how long it will be before he needs those things she doesn't know how to give. She pushes down the panic within her once again. Every fiber of her body is screaming for her to get up and away from him. To get some air. To take a walk. To run.

He feels her body tense beside him and knows that some demon is racing through her head wreaking havoc. He resists the urge to tighten his arm around her and instead just keeps flipping through the channels looking for something that will entertain them both.

"Tell about one of the cases you worked while I was gone." It hits him then that they're filling in the pieces and she would like to help him like she would have if she had been here. A small part of him flashes anger because she wasn't here and that was her choice. She leans her weight back against him and the scent of her hair fills him. As quickly as the anger materialized, it dissipates. This is all that matters now, he can't drag their past around with him all the time.

"Okay, let me think for a minute about where I should start." He's stalling because it occurs to him that all the cases are going to involve Dani and he really doesn't want to talk about her. He starts out slowly and decides not to mention her by name. "We had a case that hit close to home. We picked up a homeless guy in the rape and murder of a ten year old girl and her mother. It turned out the guy was Munch's uncle Andrew. He's mentally ill and had been off his medication but he wasn't our guy. The mistake we made was letting Uncle Andrew hang out in the precinct with us and since he had been involved he had questions about the case. He ended up doing our perp because he thought it was the right thing to do. He thought it was what we wanted when we thought the guy was going to get away with it. He ended up going into a facility but he made the decision to stop taking his meds which would send him back into that endless state of oblivion. Munch tried to act like he was all right with it but we all knew it was tearing him up. He stills goes up to see him every couple of weeks so you'll see him leave early."

Her thoughts bounce all over the place while he's talking. It all starts out badly because every time he says _we_, she knows he's referring to Dani. She was his partner at the time. When he mentions Munch's uncle her chest tightens with how much she has missed all the guys at the squad. They are everything she knows of safety and family dysfunction outside of her mother. Then he says that they made a mistake by letting Munch's uncle hang out and ask questions. She knows none of the guys would ever have casually given information to anyone. It has to have been Dani. She isn't sure if he's protecting Dani by not blaming her or if he's trying to protect her by not mentioning Dani. Either way she doesn't like it. In the end the situation cost Munch as well as his uncle so much it makes her angry on behalf of her friends.

"Elliot, who was it that spoke to Munch's uncle? Who gave him too much information?" She already knows the answer but she wants to hear him say it. She wants to hear how he says it. She feels him drop his head and she almost feels badly for backing him into a corner. Almost.

"It was Dani, she just became too involved with the victims. She would sympathize until she was functioning like the victim instead of being someone that helped them. In the end she just couldn't do the job. I don't want it to be uncomfortable when her name comes up, I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"Why would I be? You were attracted to her, weren't you?" She knows she's pushing it but she'd like to understand. She doesn't want to hold things against him that are just in her head.

"No, not like you think. She was hard to talk to; she always gave either one word answers or short cryptic ones that you didn't understand. It was clear she was still mourning her husband and that she had become lost in the pain of that loss. It didn't take me long to realize she was never going to be able to make catching the perp her priority. For her it would always be a sense of failure over not being able to help the victims." Knowing he hadn't really answered her question he took a calming breath and continued. "One night I walked her to her car and I just kissed her. It was an impulse move, not something I thought about or longed to do or any of that stuff. It was just one moment and I immediately knew it was all wrong. I was never going to be her dead husband and she was never going to be you. It never happened again." He waits, holding his breath to see how she's going to react.

"You don't have to be afraid to mention her name. I know she was your partner while I was gone and it's going to come up in conversation. I can handle that but I wouldn't handle it very well if I thought it was nothing and then found out differently." He pulls away from her suddenly and turns so he's looking her in the eyes.

"I wouldn't lie to you Olivia, you know that."

"Not even if you thought you were protecting me?" They look at each other for a long time before he responds.

"No, not even to protect you, especially not now that we've come this far. I wouldn't do anything to mess this up. It was hard being someone else's partner. You and I moved together without discussing it and we approached things in the same way, with the same thinking. I wasn't used to having to constantly communicate what I thought we should do next or who would enter a building first. It was strange. It was a constant reminder that you weren't here with me." She can hear the pain in his voice this time and she realizes that this wound is still too new to be poking around in it.

"I'm sorry El, I wasn't thinking about that part of it when I left." She feels better and she knows it's because the one thing she's sure of in her life is how to be his partner. She'd be lying if she said she was upset that it didn't work out for them.

"All that matters is that your back and we've managed to move past our partnership and our friendship to this." He leans forward and kisses her gently. Even the light touch from him stirs a fluttering in her belly. She wonders how long it will be before his kiss no longer feels so new. His hand caresses lightly down her arm and goose bumps rise in the wake of his touch. He eases her down onto the cushions with a grin spreading on his face. He jerks the pillows from behind him so he can stay stretched out on his side next to her. The remote long forgotten the channel ends up staying on some old gangster movie. Olivia is only vaguely aware of the distant rat-a-tat-tat that was supposed to be a machine gun in its day. His mouth closes over hers, more hungry than gentle now. His tongue sweeps through her mouth and then recedes enough for him to suck her lower lip between his own. His hand moves slowly over her tank top, his fingertips dragging across the swell of her breast. Her body arches toward him and her head tilts back as his lips leave a hot wet trail down her neck. He pauses at the curve of her shoulder where the skin is already dark from his earlier attention and smoothes his tongue over the tender spot. He nips along her collar bone and bites a little harder on the soft flesh of her shoulder before moving back to her neck. Her hands are sliding over his arms through the ridges, her fingers pressing into the firm planes of him. She cradles the back of his head in her palm when his mouth jumps to her ear and his tongue and warm breath tease her until chills tighten her nipples to hard points. His hand dances over her breasts in even strokes that lead to but never touch her nipples. She's humming a low moan from the back of her throat and her hips twist up off the sofa to try and press into him.

She tugs at his shirt and tries to get her hand inside his sweats but he grabs her wrist and moves her hand above her head. Just as she's about to protest his lips close tightly over her nipple and suckle hard against the thin cotton of her top, she cries out instead.

He moves to the edge of her top and runs his tongue along the exposed strip of skin. Her hips wreath up toward him and he pokes his tongue in and out of her belly button in response. "I thought you were tired."

"So, I'll nap in a little while." Her voice is broken and breathy and his fingers skim up and down the inside of her thighs. He pushes the top of her shorts down and nips at her hip bone. Her body is growing hotter and wetter every time his mouth touches her. Her fingertips press into his scalp as she tries to guide him but he turns his head quickly and catches her palm against his mouth. He sucks her palm and then takes her first two fingers into his mouth. His tongue strokes along her fingers, slipping down them and flicking rapidly over the tender piece of flesh between them. She lifts her head to watch him, amazed at the flood of moisture that she feels surge between her legs from the sight and feel of him. He releases her hand and looks at her while he pushes her shorts down and she kicks them off her legs. She sits up enough to peel her top over her head and then watches the grin spread across his face.

"Wait, Liv don't move." Before she can answer he pushes up and stretches over her and off the couch. She's mumbling _what the fuck _as he returns shaking a can of whipped cream and smiling from ear to ear.

"It's time for my desert." She chuckles softly and relaxes back against the cushions. Elliot pops the lid and sprays onto her breast. She yelps as the first puff of cool foam lands against her skin.

"It's cold." He just keeps smiling, looking like he can barely contain himself. He sprays some more down the front of her body, ending between her legs. She lifts her head and looks down; it takes her a second to realize that he has written the word _mine_ down the front of her. She rolls her eyes and starts laughing in that deep throaty way that he has so recently learned and that makes him crazy. She's sure he would have put _Elliot's_ if he could have made it fit.

"There, just like a sundae with a cherry on top." As the last word leaves his mouth she bursts into laughter, building until she's almost hysterical.

Although he finds the trembling of her body and the shaking of her breasts incredibly sexy, Elliot is almost offended. His letters are starting to melt and threatening to run off her sides. Her hand covers her face as she tries to compose herself but she can't seem to pull it together.

"Uh Liv, I'm not that funny." He strokes her side before the cream drips and licks his finger. She tries to catch her breath still gasping as she speaks.

"I'm sorry Elliot, I am. It's just that when you said it was like a sundae with a cherry on top all I could think of was an old joke; _I no longer have my cherry but I still have the box it came in._ It just struck me as funny." Elliot's low rumble of laughter erupts from him and for a moment they just laugh until they're gasping for air. It seems like as much of a gift to him as the sex, all this rich deep laughter after all these years. The room fills with the sound of it bouncing and echoing around and still he can hardly believe it. She's lying naked on the sofa with the word _mine_ melting off her while he kneels on the floor next to her fully clothed and…laughing. He can't remember the last time he felt this good. The whipped cream starts to drip again and he drops his head and catches it with his tongue. He hears her gasp and the laughter dies down so he continues moving his mouth up and across her belly. As his lips descend on her nipple her moan returns.

He's still smiling as he licks the sweet cream from her belly, his lips sucking along the line of her ribs. He slides the edge of his teeth along the underside of her breast and feels her breathing shift, slow. His tongue traces the curve of her and then circles her nipple slowly, scooping the whipped cream into his mouth. His lips close over her tight bud and he hears her gasp. No more laughing now. He follows the trail to her other breast, his mouth moving in hunger once again. His hand strokes the inside of her thigh and her legs automatically spread at his touch. He lifts her leg over his shoulder and tugs her gently to the edge of the cushion. She watches him shake the can and then reach up and point it over her lips.

"Open up." She opens her mouth and he squirts some on her tongue but it sprays onto her lips. She closes her mouth, moaning and slowly licking her lips. His dick is twitching it's so hard. He's sure if he just rubs himself a little against the side of the sofa he could come. His eyes travel from her parted mouth down the sticky path to where her leg lifts over his shoulder. She's exposed to him, pink and glistening with wet anticipation. Forget the sofa, he may come just looking at her. He sprays a line between her parted lips and her hips lift off the cushion. He tosses the can to the floor and drops his mouth on her. He licks and sucks the sweet mix of cream and her juices as though his life depends on him getting every drop. His hand moves up and captures her nipple and he begins to pinch in a rhythm opposing the thrusting of his tongue inside her. Her moan has dropped to a low pitched mewing sound, her heel is digging into his back as she tries to rock up against his searing mouth. His other hand moves between her legs, his thumb pushing inside her and rubbing circles on the most sensitive spot. His hand and mouth are wet with her and he can tell from the trembling in her thighs and the jumping of the muscles in her abdomen that she's close. He closes his lips over her clit, slips the tip of his finger into her anus. He begins pulsing his thumb and finger inside her, sucking hard on her clit and tugging the nipple in his other hand. It's too much; she can't follow all the sensations at once. Her body is wreathing and climbing, her toes curling in an effort to hang on. A burning current shoots from place to place within her until she thinks she's going to scream from the sheer driving pleasure of it all. Then it's on her in one blazing shattering moment. She slams up against his mouth, her foot shoving against his back as she arches up with the aching screaming force of it racing through her. He holds on to her as her body contracts around him, shuddering and gripping in the rolling peaks. He rides out every second of it with her. Her breasts are heaving with the effort of getting air so he watches and waits. The muscles of her stomach quiver and rest as the last of the tremors move within her. When her body calms her hand comes to rest on her abdomen.

"I'm sticky." Her voice is breathy as she gasps, still trying to slow her breathing. He chuckles warmly along her thigh where his head now rests. He sticks out his tongue and licks the edge of her slit and she jumps.

"Yes, you are, sticky sweet." She can feel him grinning and she laughs herself. Her body is aching from the intensity of the orgasm after all the day's activities. All the laughing and the sex have worn her out. She never would have predicted this day in her life, never would have even dreamt of it.

"I need to wipe myself off but I do have to stand first." He slides onto the floor so he's sitting and watches her grab her shirt and shorts on the way to the bathroom. Even after this day he can't take his eyes off her ass. There has to be something wrong with him. He pulls himself back onto the sofa and stretches out; retrieving the remote he's flipping channels when she reappears back in her clothes. Smiling and shaking her head she stops to return the can of whipped cream to the fridge. She comes over and he raises his arm so she lies down next to him high on the arm of the couch. He rests his head on the soft pillow between her shoulder and her breast more content than he knew he could be.

She scratches her fingers through his short hair as he lies against her. She wonders when they're going to stop this craziness and how they'll ever return to their lives. She closes her eyes and rests her head. His arm is possessively wrapped around her hips. She smiles thinking about the night, knowing she's drifting off to sleep and not caring.

"El, remember earlier when we said we were going to make decisions one at a time?" She can tell by his breathing he's falling asleep himself.

"Yeah." His voice is rough and groggy.

"Well, I've made a decision and I think I should share it."

Opening his eyes he's immediately wide awake. "What?" He lifts his head to look at her.

"I'm never getting rid of this couch." Her deadpan expression only holds for a few seconds.

"I second that." The laughter comes again, their bodies vibrating against each other and he thinks the sound of it feels like a miracle.


	11. Chapter 11

Her eyes are heavy but she forces them open

Undercover Chapter 11

Warning: This chapter is for mature readers only, please mind the rating.

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me and it's clear that they never will…damn it.

A/N: This story is really just starting to pick up in the plot area but I need to know there's still enough interest if I'm going to continue it. I could end it neatly in the next chapter or I could continue with the actual plot that first inspired it which would make it at least twice this long so let me hear from you. I guide the length and direction of my work by the reviews because I do like the readers to be able to take something away from each story. I won't lie though; I do love to get them. As always, thanks for reading, I do appreciate that you give your time to my story. Comments are welcomed, contemplated, coveted and adored.

Her eyes are heavy but she forces them open. She knows she had a night of good sleep, deep and dreamless. Her bladder aches and she pulls herself up to sit on the side of the bed ignoring the protest from her thighs and abdomen. It takes her a moment to reconnect with her surroundings. She's home and her body is sore because she has spent the last two days having sex with Elliot. His clean clothes are folded neatly in a laundry basket in the corner of the room. She can hear him whistling in the kitchen and the scent of pancakes or waffles comes to her tangled with something sweet and fresh coffee. Her stomach growls and she suppresses a laugh. She vaguely remembers him carrying her to bed at some point during the night. Her body had gratefully stretched out along the cool sheets before settling next to his warmth and sinking back into oblivion.

She scoops their clothes off the floor and drops them into the hamper before pulling her robe from the door. It's not until she's brushing her teeth that she actually pauses to look at herself in the mirror. She stops and just stares at her naked image. The testament of Elliot's appetite is all over her. She knows she keeps looking at the various marks but they're the evidence of her sanity. They're proof she isn't fantasizing. She's becoming almost as obsessed with them as she is with him.

As her fingers trace the slightly raised imprint of his teeth on her shoulder a chill slides down over her like a satin dress shimmering down to her knees. Her nipples feel tender as they tighten and the flicker of pain raises her arousal even more. Jesus Christ. How can she ache from having him inside her so many times and ache with the desire to have him again at the same time? She bends forward and rinses her mouth, looking at herself again as she stands as though the image may have changed. She touches another spot and tilts her head to the side in concentration. Her body is humming with the memory of every moment that left a mark.

Okay, not every moment, a few are a little hazy because he had her so distracted somewhere else. Damn he does have the most amazing coordination. Her skin tingles and she shakes her head in awe of the wetness she knows is forming between her legs. She should be embarrassed by her body's seemingly inexhaustible brazen hunger for him. She really should. He taps on the door and her shoulders jerk back. He slowly pushes it opens a few inches. She's used to living alone so she doesn't think to shut it all the way.

His mouth tells her good morning and says that breakfast is ready but his eyes drink in every inch of her. She can see him in the mirror as his eyes take in the reflection of her front and then shift in focus and move down the back of her. Her nipples draw even tighter and despite her efforts at holding herself still she feels her ass clench as his gaze passes over it. Her skin flushes so warmly the porcelain edge of the sink under her hand feels suddenly cool. The way he looks at her makes her want to respond. Her own willingness frightens her in a way but this is Elliot, her Elliot. She knows with every fiber of her being that he would never hurt her and that knowledge releases a kind of sexual freedom in her that she's never felt with anyone else. It makes her want to indulge in every fantasy she's ever had and pursue each of his until they're both spent.

By the time his eyes return to her face he can see that her surprise at his knock has been replaced with a different look. He smiles at the realization that he now knows the look of arousal in her eyes. He would like to step up behind her and rock his hard cock between the glorious clenching globes of her ass. He knows she would tug the soft cotton of his once black sweat pants down his hips. He knows if he chose to pause she would tip her hips back toward him in urging. He knows a lot about her now.

He's been staring at her ass so he looks back to her eyes again where there's now a hint of amusement too. She lifts her brow in question and looks at him. He chuckles from deep in his chest and the eyes she loves so much twinkle with the laughter.

He pushes the door open a little more and resists the urge to step inside. "Come on, breakfast is ready and the coffee is hot. We can play in the bathroom after we eat." She watches his chest muscles swell and define themselves as he takes a deep breath. Well at least she'll be sitting across from that while she eats. She pulls on her robe and turns to him, sliding her hand up his chest she kisses him. He feels a little different and she smoothes her tongue over his upper lip to find the right side swollen.

"Good morning. You have a fat lip, I know we were enthusiastic but I think I'd remember punching you in the mouth." She lifts the edge of his lip with her thumb and he pulls back.

"Hey, be careful, that's a little tender." He grins and then grimaces a little. "You didn't punch me Liv; you bucked your pus…" Her hand covering his mouth garbles the rest of his words.

"Don't say it." She wants to glare at him but he's laughing and if he can laugh about it then she can too. After all he's the one that will have to tell everyone he got hit in the mouth by a pussy. She can't hold the laughter in after that thought. She knows already he'll make up a story in case anyone asks. "It's pretty small so unless you plan on kissing one of the guys I doubt anyone will notice." There is a second of awkwardness as Dani comes to mind and she thinks about letting it go but she can't do it.

She stays right up in his face and stills her features as though she's in the interrogation room with a perp. "There isn't anyone at the precinct that would find out about that fat lip like I did, is there?"

It's a bit of a joke, a bit of jealousy and a bit of a challenge all rolled into one question. She certainly keeps him on his toes. "Well there isn't anyone at the precinct at the moment but there's this smokin' brunette that gave me this fat lip and I'd like a rematch."

She kisses him again and knows if she doesn't break it off they won't be eating breakfast until lunch time. She steps away from him. "What's that wonderful smell coming from the kitchen?" She tries to act casual but the heat swims between them.

"Since we didn't finish our desert last night I made strawberry and chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream."

"Hmmm, sounds delicious. Whipped cream goes on food? What a great idea." His grin is going to split his face and he shakes his head because he is constantly astounded by this sexual Olivia. She's already walking away from him by the time he recovers and he quickly steps after her. He wonders when it happened that he became the one always trying to keep up.

By the time she sits down at the table her mood has started to shift. She has to meet with Cragen for lunch and she needs to decide what she's going to say to him. Today is Elliot's last day off and in a mere twenty four hours their lives are going to morph once again into some other form. She tries to push the unsettling feelings aside but as always with him, her eyes betray her.

"What's the matter?" He nudges his chair up closer to the table and stacks some steaming pancakes onto both of their plates. She gathers her thoughts as they cut their food and apply syrup. She knows there has to be some kind of conversation.

He holds up the can and wiggles his brows at her. "Whipped cream?"

Not to be outdone she reaches to untie her robe but stops when she can't contain the laughter at the look on his face. She guides his hand to her plate instead. "I keep telling you, you're way to easy Stabler."

When she reaches for the tie on her robe his dick actually twitches but her laughter makes it tighten even more. He knows there is something brewing in her head but he waits until she offers it to him instead of asking her again. He watches her take the first dripping bite of the gooey pancakes and the way her tongue slips out to capture the bit of syrup on her lower lip. She notices for the first time that there is both a cup of coffee and a cup of tea in front of her and she looks up at him.

"I wasn't sure what you were going to want so I just made both." He goes back to eating and she pauses at this side of him that is so considerate. She bypasses the temptation of the coffee and sips her tea.

"I have to meet with Cragen today and I don't know what to say to him." She takes a bite as though this conversation is about coffee or tea and not about the rest of their lives.

"What would you say if you were going in and just being completely honest?" He knows she has to find her way to how this is going to define her life so he doesn't offer his opinion on what he thinks she should say.

It seems like a long time before she sets her fork down and picks up her tea. "I would tell him that we're seeing one another." She takes a sip and wraps her hands around the cup for warmth and security. "I would tell him that I know he has to separate us as partners but that I would like to stay at Manhattan if he still has an opening. I could partner with Fin or Lake and we would still have cases in common but I think we'd be okay with that. We wouldn't be the first couple to work in the same precinct." Even as she says the word couple it sounds odd to her. She has never been part of a couple. The word bounces around inside her brain. Couple, couple, couple…

"You'd be okay partnering with one of the guys?" He's trying to play devil's advocate. He thinks she'll be better at the conversation with Cragen if she's already defended herself once.

"Yeah, I think so. I'd still get to do my job." She sounds a little surer this time.

"I think you'd do well with Fin if cap let's you have any say in the matter. I would have more faith in Fin to have your back." She smiles at this because she knows what he means is that if he can't be there then he would choose Fin for her.

"You don't like Lake?" He has never really warmed up to Chester in the entire time he's been there. He never treated him with that newbie camaraderie that most people get when they start in the unit.

"It isn't a matter of liking him. He's turned out to be a good enough cop it's just that there's something about the guy that leaves me a little unsettled." She looks at him with some confusion.

"If you feel that way why would you take him on yourself?"

"I don't think he's a bad cop or even a lazy cop he actually gathers a lot of information out there. I don't know, maybe that's part of it; he goes out on his own a lot and interviews people. It's like he never really partners with anyone."

"Oh and you're such the great communicator that you think you'll do well with him? You two will never know what the other one is doing unless both of you make a real effort." For a second he's offended but he can't deny that most of his rhythm with Olivia comes from them being able to read each other not because he's been such a good talker. He knows he'd never be as good at reading Lake. The guy hardly ever changes his expression. In Lake's eyes he sees only darkness and in the darkness of Olivia's eyes he sees the world.

"This isn't about what I think anyway. Do you think you'd do well with Fin?" He takes a bite of his pancakes and wishes he had thought to scramble some eggs on the side to counter the sugary dish.

"I've worked with both of them and I'd be fine with both of them but if I'm totally honest I'd want Fin behind me."

"See that wasn't so bad. It might just turn out that we can have both worlds. You know you're right there are several couples that work at the same precinct and a few relationships that everyone knows about and just doesn't mention." She arches her brow again and sets down her tea. She doesn't miss his usage of the word couple that now lies in her head like an object left on the floor that you repeatedly notice and still manage to trip on as you go by.

"Most people made assumptions about us a long time ago. I'm not in favor of going public right now because I don't care to be judged by this and I seriously doubt anyone will believe it just happened." He doesn't want her to be right but he knows that every word of it is true. He's had plenty of cops over the years make comments to him about his partner with a nudge-nudge-wink-wink attitude. If he had punched every one like he had wanted to he would have beaten up half of the police department by now.

"You're right, for now we'll keep it out of work except for telling Cragen. Do you want me to go with you?"

"No Elliot, I can do this myself. I have to talk to him about filling the opening first so it wouldn't be appropriate for you to be there and I don't want him to have the impression you're going to be over protective." She looks at him for a moment, "because you're not, right?"

"No more than I was before Olivia." She rolls her eyes and decides she'll deal with that when she has to because they both know that down the road there will be situations he doesn't like.

"Hey, reach behind you and turn on that radio on the windowsill. I want to hear today's weather because I'm hoping it's going to be pretty cold."

He reaches back and the rhythmic voice of a news announcer floats behind them. They listen as they eat until the man begins to describe the chill in the air and a wide grin appears on her face. He's completely lost to whatever it is she's planning.

"Why do you want it to be cold? Was it warm in Oregon and you missed our fine New York weather?" He pictures her getting ready for work in the morning, walking around in her robe and listening for the weather so she can decide what to wear.

"No it was cold and damp or raining most of the time and I was constantly chilled. I just want it to be cold today because I think I'm going to need to wear a turtle neck to see Cragen." She watches the meaning form in his brain and a flush rise to his cheeks.

"I'd say I'm sorry but you already know that I'm not." He gets even redder as he speaks and turns away from her to shut off the radio as a distraction.

"You're blushing."

"It's warm in here."

"Really?" She grabs the edge of the table in surprise when he pulls her chair closer to him. He leans in and kisses the sweet syrupy strawberry flavor of her mouth and slips his hand into her robe to cup her breast. He starts softly tugging on her nipple as he kisses her until her arms slip around his neck and pulls him closer. She moans deeply as he works her tender breast then breaks the kiss and pulls back just far enough to see her eyes.

"See? I told you it was warm in here." He smiles his cocky smile so she kisses him again before releasing him. She takes another bite of her breakfast and then slowly licks her lips while he watches. She knows some of what gets to him now so when she takes his finger and dips it in the syrup before taking it into her mouth she's pretty sure she's ending breakfast. She watches his gasp and the muscles in his chest and arms become more defined. She presses the palm of her free hand on his chest just above his nipple and stokes the sculpted muscular planes. She slips out of her chair and kneels in front of him. In an instant she has his sweats pulled away from his dick and is dripping syrup on the head of it.

"I never got to have my desert last night." Her voice has dropped down to a low pitch that makes him push his feet harder against the floor. She adds a line of whipped cream and sinks her hot wet mouth over the head of him. He growls out a long rough sound as she moves over him licking and sucking the sweet flavors from his sensitive skin. She feels him rise slightly in the chair and his thigh turns solid under her hand. Her fingers are wrapped around the base of him as her lips and tongue drag up his length. She traces the veined lines of his shaft and tightens her lips over the sensitive strip on the under side of him. She flattens her tongue against him as she guides him to her throat and back out in a smooth rhythm.

He has to concentrate to keep breathing because right now the only part of him working spontaneously is his dick. He feels her tongue swirl over him and her lips and throat close around him as she moves down and then back up to where she teasingly sucks his head. When she repeats the motion he fights the urge to move and thrust into her but can't stop the small pulsing in his hips. Her hair falls in silky strands over his thigh as she increases her pace and pressure. He's groaning and panting and every sound from him increases the fire in her belly. Her hand drops down and strokes the inside of his thigh in light tantalizing patterns. She cups his balls in the heat of her palm and he feels them tighten. He knows he's going to come and from the rapid rhythm of her hands and mouth she knows it too. He wants to warn her but he only manages the start of her name before the moan rips from him because at that moment she starts humming. Fucking humming.

He tries not to thrust out of the chair when it hits but he feels himself lifting as he empties himself into the back of her throat. His legs are trembling and he presses up and out as she continues to suck every drop out of him. His back and abdomen hurt from clenching in the odd position he holds himself. His knuckles are white where he's clenching the table and he's gasping more than breathing. She licks him softly once more and tucks him back in his pants. By the time he opens his eyes and can focus she's back to eating pancakes as if he had actually been a part of her meal.

She keeps chewing and his eyes are fixed on her lips. They're red and puffy from the activities and her tongue slips out to sooth them. She gets up and puts her tea in the microwave to heat it and when she turns back to him he's still staring at her with a sated dazed expression on his face. Looking at him she can't help the smile and soon a laugh bubbles up out of her. "You were right, desert was good but I was so tired last night that I'm glad I saved mine until this morning when I could appreciate it."

His face manages a smile but his brain is still in a scramble as his thoughts are whisked around and shredded by the image of her between his legs. Olivia Benson just sucked him off so hard he came in her throat. He has only received a handful of blow jobs in his life. It was usually only used on special occasions as a warm up for sex and ended with him inside his wife. He thought real blow jobs were an urban myth seen only in porno movies and men's fantasies. Olivia had his dick in her mouth not as an act of foreplay but with the singular focused intent of making him come. She didn't fumble, didn't touch him with hesitance or reluctance. She took him with enthusiasm. She was fucking humming.

"El." She is standing right in front of him when he focuses again. "Are you okay?" For a split second she's afraid that something is physically wrong with him and her chest tightens. "Elliot, damn it say something."

"I'm fine." He offers her a lopsided smile that isn't convincing.

"Are you sure because you don't look fine. Maybe you're getting to old for this much activity." He laughs then and she feels the tightness ebb a little. She lifts her steaming mug of tea and tries to act far more casual than she feels.

"I'm not having a heart attack or anything I just…I…" She's waiting but really she's confused and the fear that she's done something wrong starts to grow in her.

"Elliot this can't be your first blow job, why are you acting…" She freezes at the look on his face because the answer is written all over him. It was his first. Her mind trips around because she knows he was married all those years but she can't believe his wife would never have done that for him. She's heard women say they don't do that but she can't imagine a woman never doing it in 16 years of marriage. Unless there was some reason that Elliot wouldn't let her. Maybe he see's too much of his job in the act. Still, he didn't stop her or pull away; of course it happened pretty fast. She tries to study his face but he's running his hand over in that nervous frustrated way.

"El, I'm sorry, I didn't think. I was just caught up in the moment and…"

"Whoa hold on a minute. Why are you apologizing?"

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Jesus I should've known better, I just didn't think." Her head drops and he tips her chin up so she's looking at him again.

"Whatever you're thinking, you're wrong. Just stop for a minute and let's catch up to each other. You don't need to apologize, that was amazing." He smiles then, a genuine smile that comes with a blush. "I didn't expect you to go that far is all; whenever Kathy did that she'd stop and take it in another direction. She said no woman really wanted to do that so I was just surprised, very pleasantly surprised." He falls silent and she honestly doesn't know what to say and she isn't really sure how to feel but it seems to be somewhere between being complimented and being called a pro.

He needs something from her that he can't verbalize. He takes her tea from her hand and sets it on the table and then gently unties her robe. He slides his hands into the warm air inside her robe and onto the smooth skin of her sides. He tugs her toward him and pulls her down until she's straddling his lap. Her body responds to his unspoken direction and she wraps herself tightly against him. Her breasts and belly press into his chest and her head tucks onto his shoulder. Her robe drapes behind her down over his knees so he feels like someone tossed a blanket over them.

He holds her like that for a long time, his hands moving slowly over her back. He likes having her skin to skin with him, against his chest just like this. His lips move to her ear and brush lightly over the edge of it and he can feel the chill run through her as her shoulder lifts into it. "That was incredible and sexy as hell. It felt so good I was over stimulated and speechless afterwards. I just needed a minute to recover. It was like a fantasy that came to life and I couldn't believe it. Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me El. It was something I wanted to do and enjoyed doing. Whatever your wife told you was strictly based on her own preferences. Personally I like your penis." As sincere as the words were, as soon as they leave her lips she begins to laugh and Elliot follows suit. The sound fills the spaces and dissolves the last residue of awkwardness clinging to them.

He spent most of his life trying to figure out what he was doing wrong and now sitting here with her in his arms he wonders what he's done right.

While they're cleaning up the kitchen he begins to get nervous about how the day is going to go. They haven't really discussed what they're doing. He sets the last dish on the counter and turns off the water, drying his hands as he takes a deep breath. "I have a couple of errands of run so I thought I'd do them while you were at your lunch. What's the plan after that?"

She snaps the lid on the container of strawberries and puts them in the fridge before turning to him. "Well, you have a key so we can just meet back here if you want unless there are things at your apartment you need to handle." She doesn't want to think about him returning to work in the morning or the life they've been leading in this bubble coming to an end.

He comes over and drops his hands to her waist. "I just want to make sure that you're still okay with me being here. I don't want to crowd your privacy." She smiles then because she's been living with a group of people for the last few months so his presence hasn't seemed at all intrusive.

"Well, let's meet back here for dinner and then maybe we'll spend tonight in our own beds and see how that goes. I don't think I'm really going to know how I feel about tomorrow until after I talk to Cragen today. He may say I have to go to another precinct. He could say a lot of things that would change our situation so let's see where we are at dinner." He has to fight hard against his impulse to try and control the situation.

"Okay, I'll meet you back here. I suppose I'm cooking again." He squeezes her waist and she wriggles in his grasp.

"Of course you are, I'm still working on that man slave image of you." He laughs deeply and she feels better, calmer. "I have to finish sorting through all that mail from when I was gone and then shower and get ready to go. I thought I'd strip and change the sheets today too."

"Why don't I run you a nice relaxing hot bath and then while you're in there I can do the bed, that way you get some down time before the meeting." She pauses to consider his offer. She would like to soak in the tub just to help her sore muscles and relieve some of her tension.

"That would probably help with my nerves so I'm going to take you up on that offer. I think I'll take the bath now and work on the mail afterwards instead so my hair has a chance to dry. I'll go and get ready." She kisses him and then heads down the hall as he goes to the bathroom.

When she arrives in the bathroom there is already a layer of steam clinging to the ceiling. Elliot is sitting on the floor in front of an open cabinet with four bottles in front of him. He looks up with a helpless expression on his face. "Which one of these do you use, they all smell a little like you." She starts laughing and picking up the bottles one at a time, dumping a splash of each into the running water and then setting it on the sink.

"That's because I use them all. I don't like one scent. I don't like to smell like an apple or a flower. I like the blend it suits my mood better." He's still holding a bottle in his hand as he gets up.

"What does a fig smell like?" She laughs harder, taking the bottle from him and adding a healthy pour into the tub.

"Sweet but not flowery, I really like that one. How could you live all those years in a house full of women and know so little about women's products?" It comes out before she's really thinking but she really doesn't mind. After all, they can't act like he didn't have a life before this weekend.

"Believe me I know more about women's products than any guy should but I always kept away from the bath stuff. It just felt like that was their private time and I wanted them each to have that and be comfortable with it. By the time they were old enough to be doing these scented long baths they were buying the stuff on their own so I have no idea what they use." He's putting the bottles back in the cupboard and she turns off the water. The mirrors are steamed over and the temperature in the room has become quite warm. The scent lingering in the air now reminds him of her on those occasions that they would be locked in the car for a stake out. He always thought she had come fresh from the shower but he now realizes she must have taken a hot bath to relax her before the hours in the car. He's glad he didn't know that back then, it would only have fed his fantasies of her and there isn't anywhere to hide a hard on in that small space. Her voice drags his thoughts back to the present.

"I don't care if you're a man or a woman, old or young; a good hot bath has the power to make you feel better." As she speaks she slips her robe off her shoulders and hangs it on a hook. She lifts one long slender leg and eases it slowly through the bubbles and into the hot water. The moment feels surreal to him. Her perfect naked form climbing into the tub in the thick steam of the room is like a vision in his head instead of the actuality in front of him. Her tan skin looks even darker against the light tiles and white bubbles surrounding her. She gasps from the heat as she lowers herself down and he watches her body quiver from the dueling sensation of the hot water and cooler air. Once seated she leans her head back and looks over at him.

"Are you that entertained just watching me taking a bath?" He realizes then that he has a ridiculous grin plastered to his face and he starts to chuckle.

"The truth is I'm highly entertained watching you do anything, _especially_ if you're doing it naked."

She puts her hand to her face and shakes her head slightly. "Oh my god you are such an asshole sometimes."

"Olivia I have never been more serious in my life." When she looks back the humor is gone and his expression has changed to one of intense focus. It's a look she knows well and right now it's scaring her a little because she knows from that look he means exactly what he said. "I'm going to go take care of things out here. You relax and enjoy yourself." He slips quickly from the room before she has a chance to respond. In the hallway he takes a cleansing breath of the cooler air. If he was a younger man he'd be headed into the other room to masturbate through another erection right now. As it is that image of her getting into the tub made his tired dick twitch and try to get up.

When he enters the bedroom she has left a fresh set of sheets at the end of the comforter. They're a soft buttery color that looks rich and creamy to him. He sets them on a chair and begins to pull the pale green set off the bed. The sheets in his hands smell like sex and removing them feels oddly intimate to him. He pulls the pillow cases off the pillows and catches a whiff of her shampoo. His eyes pause on her gun still sitting on her bedside table. He doesn't want to think about her back at work where something could happen to her. When his mind starts to drift in that direction he turns his thoughts back to the tub.

He walks down the hall clutching the ball of fabric and hears her humming softly as he passes the bathroom door. He pauses but doesn't recognize the song. She sings a few lines and goes back to humming. He pulls the waistband of his sweats out and looks down at his plumping cock. "She's not humming for you right now so just settle down." As he resumes his steps he starts laughing at himself and wonders if too much sperm production can cause insanity. The more he thinks about it, the funnier it becomes and the harder he laughs. He manages to get the clothes in the washer but waits to start it in case she needs to use the water before she gets out of the tub.

After making the bed with what he now thinks of as the buttery sheets he settles himself on the sofa and flips on the television. He doesn't want to disturb her so he decides to get cleaned up and dressed after she gets out of the bathroom.

Olivia sighs deeply and closes her eyes, letting the water and heat absorb into her sore body. Even now while she's lying perfectly still in the water she feels as though there is too much moving within her. Once she tells Cragen about Elliot her life will change and all this will be real. She's been acting as though these last few days didn't count because no one knew about them but she was so wrong. Her life is already changing because being with him is changing her. In a way she feels like she's been waiting for it all her life. She just didn't expect it to feel like this, like her own life is so much bigger than she is that she can't wrap herself around it all.

She has started something with Elliot, something that she can't fully define and yet she has willingly relinquished herself to it. She always wanted to feel connected to someone like she was part of a family, like she belonged. She had tried to fill that need with work and to a certain degree it helped. Still she knew in her heart that she would trade that for the real thing. As much as her job had helped define her over the years she was ready for her life to be more. She was ready to share herself, to invest herself and build a life. So why does her chest ache every time she thinks about it? Why is it so frightening? She pushes the thoughts from her head and focuses on the task at hand. She needs to slow down and just take this as it comes instead of working it to death like she would a case.

She loves him and in what she sees as a stunning turn of events, he loves her so they'll be able to work it all out. She should stand and wash her hair but the heat feels so good and she's so warm and comfortable now that she decides to give herself five more minutes. She draws a deep breath of the humid scented air and thinks to herself, just five more minutes.


	12. Chapter 12

Olivia walks in long strides down the sidewalk scanning and assessing the people as she goes out of cop habit

Undercover Days Chapter 12

Disclaimer: They are not mine but I will never stop playing with them.

Olivia walks in long strides down the sidewalk scanning and assessing the people as she goes out of cop habit. She licks her lip and tastes the remnant of Elliot's parting kiss. She reaches in her pocket and applies lip gloss as though she can cover the evidence of his touch. She's uncomfortable with having to talk about her personal life with her captain, well with anyone for that matter. She wants to keep her job and she wants to keep Elliot too. She wonders if she's kidding herself by thinking she can have both. Her agitation is driving her steps and she's at the precinct ten minutes early.

Once inside the building she has a wave of various emotions run through her. It feels familiar and comforting in that home-away-from-home kind of way. At the same time she has some hesitation about how the guys are going to react to her sudden disappearance. Walking across the worn wooden floor and breathing in the warm stale air she also feels a sense of longing to be back doing the job she loves to do. She can feel her eyes water in response to the heat of the room after the cold of her brisk walk.

It's the smell that hits her next and she knows it's because she only notices it after she's been away for a while. It's a mixed scent from the combination of body sweat, fear and alcohol permeating the walls of the holding area. Its burnt coffee and leather holsters, dust laden windows and old files musty from years of storage coming from behind the front desk. It's the shoe polish of officers in new uniforms and lemon polish rubbed into desks creaking with the ache of age from the offices. It's the precinct, always open, always humming with activity as lives begin and end within its walls. She smiles as she walks into the elevator.

As she steps off she runs into Munch, who does a double take before stopping.

"Well, look who's here! Where have they been hiding you Olivia?" His smile is genuine and she returns it in kind.

"Hi John, you know what they say, I could tell you but then I'd have to kill you." He looks over the top of his glasses at her and puts on his best shocked expression.

"Please tell me that they didn't get to you. You're not going over to the dark side are you?" She's laughing now because she can always count on Munch to be completely himself.

"No, I'm here to see Cragen." He arches his brows and shakes his head.

"I always knew you were a glutton for punishment. Elliot has been like a bear disturbed during hibernation since you left. I should get going; I'm on my way to catch up with Fin. Good luck with the boss." He reaches out and squeezes her shoulder before getting on the elevator.

"Thanks John."

She walks past her empty desk and returns a wave to Lake who is engrossed in a conversation on the phone. The Captain is sitting behind his desk doing paperwork when she strolls into his office.

"Hello Olivia, take a seat." Even when he smiles his face looks weary.

"How was working for the feds?" He's interested in what she thinks but he's also trying to find out if she's thinking of making a career move.

"You know how they are, they don't communicate enough and they always keep you on a need to know basis. You know how the assignment developed, it's not like they gave me a big choice in the matter." She leaves out the part about not feeling like they completely had her back.

"So, does this mean you're coming back to SVU because I still have your position open?" He's always been a man that got right to the point.

She takes a deep breath and he observes her hesitation with a curious expression. She knows the moment is here and for a second she thinks about omitting the truth and taking her job back by Elliot's side. "I would like to come back to the unit captain and I appreciate the offer but there is a problem."

She watches his face shift as he prepares himself for something unexpected.

"What would that be?" He looks even more tired and her resolve strengthens in that moment. She doesn't want to be here another decade and end up looking this defeated with nothing to hold onto but the job.

"I need to partner with someone other than Elliot." He rubs his face and pinches the bridge of his nose for a few seconds.

"I thought you two had worked through some things and were doing better. Didn't the break from him help at all?" She almost laughs. It helped her come more in the last few days than she has in the last few years but she's sure that's not what he meant. She realizes with some amount of horror that she is smiling, well grinning like a fool actually.

"The break did help and we have definitely worked through some things. As a matter of fact we're seeing one another and it's serious enough that I think we shouldn't be partners at this point. I wouldn't want it to compromise our jobs." He's quiet for a long time and she starts to worry about his silence even though she can see him thinking it through.

"Olivia I'm not sure what I want to do about this. I appreciate your honesty and other than this conversation you know I can't ever recognize what you just told me while we're in this building. The problem is that there will be cases that all of you work and although I can keep you from partnering with Elliot on a daily basis you would still be working with him." He pauses and she stays silent because she can tell that he's not finished. He leans back in his chair for a moment and looks up to clear his head. "You two have always been close and I've had to question more than once whether or not you were still effective as a team. I'm going to need a few days to think this through. I'd like you both to do a confidential evaluation with Huang. You have to be cleared by him anyway to return to duty. You know whatever my decision is, it's better for both of you if the relationship doesn't become common knowledge around here. It's one thing for people to speculate but they've done that for years and without any proof it doesn't mean anything." His eyes soften and she sees the acceptance in him even though he won't voice it. "When were you planning on returning to work?"

"As soon as I can, I've been through debriefing and I've been back for a couple of days already."

He knows her well enough to know that the casual front she's presenting is far from how she feels. "If you both can see Huang in the next few days I'll have an answer for you by Wednesday morning. Have either of you considered working SVU at another precinct?" He studies her, looking for a sign that her confidence in this decision is shaky but he doesn't find one.

"We talked about it briefly and if it comes to that one of us would transfer but Manhattan is our first choice and we both feel we can handle it." She doesn't blink or swallow in the way that nervous people do and he admires this quality that has always made her a good cop.

"You know the odds are against the two of you making it." He didn't want to say it but in the end he couldn't help the compulsion to warn her.

"Cap, the odds were against us being in this department more than eighteen months but after almost a decade we're both still here. I think we can make it work." She tries to stay steady but she's still wondering just how they're going to make it work even as she's professing that they will.

He feels her waver slightly in her last statement and he realizes that the relationship must still be new. Part of him thinks this may actually be good for both of them. It could conceivably clear the air and make their working relationship better. They've had all these complicated feelings between them for years and this may settle down that impulsive intensity that sometimes gets them into trouble. Then again it could turn out that they end up bringing relationship problems into the squad room and that would be even worse than all the slamming drawers and brooding. He's definitely going to have to give it some serious thought. They aren't like everyone else and its part of what has made them so good at what they do for all these years.

"Well I guess if anyone can it's the two of you. You're certainly both stubborn enough." He gives her a knowing smile and she beams back at him.

"I won't argue with that." He stands and she knows the difficult part of the meeting is over and all that's left is to grab a bite to eat. His phone buzzes as she gets up and it only takes her a moment to realize that they won't be going to lunch. He hangs up and turns to her.

"Sorry Olivia, our lunch will have to wait for another day. I'll talk to you by the middle of the week."

"That's okay; I certainly know how it is around here. Bye captain." She hears him from behind her as her hand reaches for the door.

"You look happy Olivia." He wants to tell her to make sure that Elliot keeps her that way but he knows it's not his place. Still he can't help thinking that of all his detectives she certainly deserves a chance at happiness. He just wishes that she had found it with someone less complicated than Elliot.

She knows his statement is as close as he'll ever come to giving some kind of blessing. She smiles at him over her shoulder and nods her head before leaving.

She goes by George's office on the way out but he isn't in and she decides not to leave him a note but to call him later. She's steps back outside and the cold bite of the wind nips at her cheeks and ears. She tugs her black turtle neck up a little higher and wishes she remembered to grab a scarf. She pauses on the sidewalk and tries Elliot on his cell phone, leaving him a message to call her. She briefly wonders where he is that he wouldn't answer his phone. She hears sirens screaming in the distance and as she goes to take a step a pain in her chest immobilizes her. The sudden sharp burst steals her breath and her hand automatically moves to her chest. She teeters slightly on her feet and then feels a hand on her elbow guiding her closer to the building. As she gratefully leans against it she hears George's voice asking her if she's okay. The pain is tight but she manages to lift her head and look at him. Concern is etched in every one of his features so she tries to nod her head in assurance. She holds up a finger to get him to give her a minute and closes her eyes as she forces air into her lungs. The ribbons of pain spread out across her chest, tightening around her rib cage. She draws another ragged breath and watches as George takes out his phone and flips it open. She puts her hand over it and shakes her head no.

"George, I'm fine, just give me a minute." The grip loosens enough for her to get air without sound and she tries to smile at him. The attempt is feeble and seems to be more of a wince. "I was just looking for you."

"Olivia you're white as a sheet. Let me call an ambulance." He is still clutching the phone but she manages to pull herself back upright and look at him with a little more clarity.

"Really, I'm fine. If you're not busy let's walk down here to the coffee shop and sit for a minute."

"I was just dropping off some reports but they can wait a while. Are you sure you're okay to be walking?"

"The movement will be good for me." She moves somewhat slowly, testing her strength and balance. The searing lines are thinning and the sharp edge of the pain has dulled to a tight ache. Her steps lengthen a little and he falls into stride next to her.

They walk down the few building to the café and take a small table in the corner. She's relieved to be sitting down. George orders them both a glass of water when the menus come and after she drinks some and sits for a few minutes she feels the remaining discomfort dissipate.

"Olivia have you seen a doctor?" He's all business and she knows that she scared him. Hell, she scared herself. She shifts and the old wooden chair creaks a complaint.

"It just started and that was the worst one."

"So you're going to make an appointment today?" He has the small smile that she knows means he's not going to let her off the hook.

"Seeing you doesn't count?" He genuinely smiles at her now and shakes his head.

"You know it doesn't. What's happening?" He watches her search for an explanation and settles back in his chair to wait.

"I honestly don't know. I was fine in Oregon and I went through the debriefing without a problem. The undercover assignment wasn't particularly stressful and I didn't witness anything that would prompt any trauma."

"Are you saying you don't think it's physical?"

She blinks slowly and stares at him in surprise. What was she saying? It didn't feel like her heart. It didn't feel like heartburn or an ulcer. It wasn't an injury unless she pulled a muscle without knowing it in the Elliot sex aerobics. "I don't really know." She suddenly doesn't want to talk about it anymore.

"What were you doing when it happened?" He's focused and she expects him to whip out a pad and start taking notes any minute.

"I was looking for you to schedule a return visit to be cleared to come back to work. I had just come from seeing Cragen about coming back and he wanted me to discuss a few things with you. I came outside and I was just gripped with this weird feeling and then my chest muscles constricted and I lost my breath."

"Olivia what were you doing when it happened before?"

"Nothing significant, it happened while I was standing in the bathroom, while I was sitting at the table and while…" She stops mid sentence because she knows it happened while she was rinsing the blood from Elliot's tub.

He knows she's stopped because something has struck her. He's surprised she's been so open with him. As private as she is it usually takes a while for him to get her talking. "What were you doing the first time it happened?"

"I was sitting at my kitchen table drinking tea and opening the mail that had collected while I was gone."

"What were you reading or thinking about when the attack started?"

She was working on her bills but she was thinking about Elliot. She was thinking about waking Elliot who was peacefully sleeping in her bed. She had made him a cup of coffee and taken it in to him. She wanted him to open his eyes. His broad chest and muscled limbs filled her bed and she was tempted to strip off her clothes and join him. After a few moments when the scent of the coffee didn't wake him she pulled up the blinds, flooding the room with the bright light of the late morning sun. She walked quietly back to the kitchen and waited for him.

She looks around the room nervously and then back to George. He can see that she's uncomfortable but he hates to stop the conversation when he can tell by her expression that she's made some connections.

"Olivia what's going on?" He waits for her to pull herself together. The waitress comes to the table and they order. She's grateful for the fleeting distraction. They sit in silence until their drinks arrive while she continues to turn things over in her head. She finally looks up at him, deciding she should get it over with. Her fingers wrap over the edge of the table and he notes that she appears to be bracing herself.

"George, Cragen is going to call you and ask you to do an evaluation on both Elliot and me. Besides the return to duty profile he wants to know if we can continue to work at the same precinct. We've started to see one another and he's afraid if I come back to SVU, even without Elliot as my partner there will be circumstances that could compromise our cases. He wants us to talk to you so you can determine if we're stable enough to stay in the same unit. He's hoping we can get it done in the next couple of days. That was the other reason I was looking for you"

He flashes her a broad warm smile which it's obvious she doesn't expect. Suddenly all her nervousness makes sense to him. "So how long have you and detective Stabler been seeing one another?"

"We only started a relationship last week. I asked to be assigned to a different partner." She thinks it sounds better than three days ago but it still seems like they've been in their own world for much longer. Her fingertips release the table and begin to trace a pattern over the smooth wood near her tea.

"You two have had a relationship for the last eight years; it's just the nature of it that's changed in the last week. Do you think the two of you can handle being in the same precinct?"

"I think we've always had a sense of responsibility for one another. I don't expect that to change. We've been partners for so long that even when we work with other people we tend to check on one another." She pauses and takes a drink of her tea, glancing at her phone sitting on the table near her. "I know Elliot thinks no one is as good at having my back as he is because after all this time we know how the other will react in a crisis. We have a certain familiarity and rhythm that comes with time." She turns the phone over and tugs a shred of paper from the edge of her napkin, rolling in it her fingers as she searches for words. "I don't think being in a relationship with him is going to make the situation any better or worse on a daily basis. I only see a problem if something goes wrong."

Her breath hitches and she sips some more tea, meeting his intense gaze. "What do you mean by _something going wrong_?" He watches her sigh deeply and her eyes dart from surface to surface.

"It's always in the back of our minds, all of us worry about that moment that something goes wrong and our partner gets hurt. I thought about it and if I was in the field with Fin or Munch and I heard on the radio that an officer was down and I knew it was Elliot…" Her breathing becomes shallow and slow and she concentrates to try to bring it back to normal. "I would have to go but to be honest I would have gone before too. It has to do with being his partner. I would go if any of the guys were hurt."

"But it wouldn't be the same if it was Elliot that was hurt would it?"

"No." Her voice is soft and she pushes the idea of Elliot being shot out of her head. The images have been part of her nightmares in the past and she doesn't expect that to change. "But George all partners have a connection, you know how it works out there."

"I understand the dynamic. I'll tell you what I'd like to see happen. First of all I want you to see a doctor tomorrow so we can make sure you don't have anything physical causing your shortness of breath. In the meantime, if it happens again you should go to the emergency room right away. There are all kinds of things that could be causing the issue and there's no way you can be cleared to go back to work until we know." He gives her a sympathetic smile at the look of irritation that settles over her features. He doubts she would have told him about the condition if he hadn't run into her during an episode. "After you see your doctor give me a call and I'll fit both you and Elliot in for the evaluations."

Her hands wrap around her tea in a motion of comfort and her eyes are fixed on the window. "I've always made my career my life and now that I want something more for my life I just don't want to have to sacrifice my career. It's possible to have both isn't it?"

He realizes her question is sincere and he gives her a reassuring smile. "Yes, many couples do both successfully but your jobs are more stressful than most so it's going to take work." He reaches over and touches her arm and her head slides around until she's looking at him. "This isn't about whether or not you deserve it Olivia. You do. This is about keeping everyone safe while you pursue both your career and your life." She sighs and he thinks it looks a little like relief. He doesn't say anymore because he knows they need a session in the privacy of his office to continue.

When she steps outside the sun is slightly warmer but the wind still carries a deep chill. She tells George that she'll call him and then watches him head back toward the precinct before flipping open her phone. Her head is spinning. She doesn't like the fact other people are making decisions about her life. She dials Elliot and listens to the ringing but snaps the phone shut in frustration when it once again goes to voice mail. She calls her doctors office instead and gives a brief explanation of her situation. She's known Dr. Martha Schiff since she was a resident and their professional relationship spilled into friendship. Despite their busy schedules Olivia tries to catch a cup of coffee with her when work takes her to the hospital and she can make the time. After a moment on hold the woman comes back and tells her that if she can be there in 20 minutes the doctor can see her today. She closes her phone and waves at a cab.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It's ten after six when she exits the hospital next to her doctor's office and hails a cab. This is why she hates hospitals, because they poke and prod you and keep you for hours on end. She desperately wants to shower. There are spots of sticky residue on her body from the pads of the heart monitor and a thin sheen of gel from the echo. When she removed her shirt in her doctor's office the other woman had arched her brow and stepped back for a few seconds. Olivia had smiled at her old friend, looking very much like the proverbial cat that swallowed the canary.

"What? So, I'm seeing someone." The other woman laughed softly.

"Jesus is he a cannibal?" Olivia laughed out loud and the doc waited for her to settle before placing the stethoscope against her chest. That was almost five hours ago. Martha had ordered a battery of tests and thrown her substantial professional weight around to get them all done immediately. Even with that kind of pull it seemed to take forever. In the end all Martha could tell her was that all preliminary tests showed that she was in perfect health. The rest of her blood work and the final reports on her echo would be in the system by tomorrow afternoon and she could call Martha for the results. Her doctor didn't expect anything to show up though, she told Olivia to go ahead and schedule her appointment with Huang because at this point her conclusion was that the episodes were panic attacks. Olivia had stared at her for a full moment until the other woman had reached out and squeezed her hand and whispered to her that everything would be fine. The tests could've shown a lot of things that would have been devastating but she could be cured of panic attacks.

Panic attacks.

Olivia sits in the cab and actually laughs. She and panic are old friends, all the way back to her childhood actually. She has always experienced and managed her panic and now the thought that it's attacking her…well it strikes her as funny. The cab driver glances nervously in the rearview mirror; sure he has a crazy on board. Part of her is relieved that this is not something more serious and part of her is insulted to be diagnosed with something she considers a sign of weakness. She has to admit that when it happens it does feel like she's being attacked. It feels like someone has punched her square in the chest with all their might and knocked the wind right out of her. She needs to get this under control as soon as possible. The last thing she needs is to be out on the street and freeze up in panic. That would be a death sentence to her career. The thought sobers her up just as her phone begins to beep. She jerks it from her pocket and scans the calls. Elliot has been trying to get a hold of her.

Shit, Elliot. She's already irritated so the last thing she needs is attitude from him right now. He doesn't even know about the panic attacks and now she's going to have to tell him something. Shit, shit, shit. She snaps the phone shut and shoves it back in her pocket. She's already on her way home, there's no need to start the conversation on the phone. She taps a gum wrapper on the floor of the cab with the toe of her boot. How would she feel if Elliot was over five hours late coming back from a lunch? Pissed enough to tell him to not even bother explaining. Shit. Staring out the window at the street numbers climbing toward her home, she wonders how so many things managed to spin out of her control in just a few short hours.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Elliot places the pan of lasagna into the oven to finish cooking and then goes back to pacing with a beer. It's his third and although he's far from drunk at least the urge to put his fist through a wall has passed. She left over six hours ago to go to lunch with the captain. The conversation must not have gone well or she would've been home a long time ago. Even if she has to clear her head it's been too long for her to be out wandering around while she thinks about things.

He started to really worry two hours ago and that's when he opened the first beer. He tries to distract himself by cooking a meal that requires a lot of preparation but he still looks at the clock every five minutes. He doesn't know who he should call. He doesn't want to call Cragen and appear like he's already lost his grip when they're trying to convince the man they're fine working in the same unit. Olivia would kill him with his own gun.

He calls a friend in another unit instead to make sure there haven't been any accidents with anyone unidentified or involving a police officer. He calls to make sure there are no horrifying traffic back ups. He even calls a few emergency rooms just to make himself feel better. She left a message on his phone hours ago but never picked up when he repeatedly tried to call back. She's a cop but she isn't invincible.

In the middle of sucking down his second beer it occurs to him that she may have become overwhelmed and just left. Left him. Even though he's standing in her apartment, the irrational fear that she's gone becomes all consuming. There is no longer anything to give him even a micro spasm of relief. He can picture her sitting on a stool in the bar of a hotel with a drink in her hand deciding whether or not to get a room so she doesn't have to come home. His guts feel like they're twisting into knots and he's starting to hyperventilate.

He tries to calm himself. Maybe she ran into the guys and got to talking. _For the entire afternoon?_ Maybe she twisted her ankle on a curb and is sitting in an urgent care center. _After an hour of waiting she would have crawled out if she had to just to leave. _Maybe Cragen took her to a new squad to introduce her. _Okay, even if her father was the mayor of New York, no one would do that._ Maybe she ran into a girlfriend and went shopping and lost track of time. _She doesn't ever shop enough to lose time; she'd have to have had a lobotomy. _Maybe she was so stressed she went for a run. _In her boots? _Maybe she's been in some kind of an accident, or mugged, or raped…

She could be lying somewhere wondering why he isn't there to help her. He stops moving and forces air into his constricting lungs.

His fists curl into tight balls that turn his knuckles so white the bruising almost disappears. He begins to pace again with the third beer dangling from his fingers while anger, fear and worry take turns surging within him. The buzzer for the oven has gone off twice and he looks at his watch again, it's ten after six. He sets his empty on the counter and takes out the lasagna to settle and cool.

He grabs a bottle from the fridge and goes to the television to turn it on so the room will fill with sound. Opening his fourth beer he decides that at six thirty he's calling Cragen.


	13. Chapter 13

Undercover Days

Chapter 13

**Warning: Rated M for sexually explicit (but tasteful) content, this story is for mature audiences only.**

A/N: I know, a big delay but in return this is a monster chapter so we can pretend it's like posting two chapters at once! As always thanks for reading and your comments are welcomed and appreciated.

Disclaimer: They are not mine but I am eternally grateful for the chance to play with them…

Olivia can hear the television from the hallway and the scent of something wonderful cooking seeps underneath the door. She slips her key into the lock and steps inside, trying to sort out the day in her head. Elliot turns as she enters, his cell phone clenched in one hand and a beer dangling from the other. His expression shifts between concern and anger and she tries to take a deep breath to brace her self as she walks into the room.

"Have you lost your phone?" His voice is low and his words are carefully clipped with what she knows is the stress of holding on to his temper.

"No." She pulls off her coat and drapes it on the back of a chair as she turns to face him.

"Did you run out of power or accidentally turn it off?" The edge grows sharper and her mind races to defuse him but his tone is starting to trigger her own anger.

"No Elliot, it's been a long day and…"

"A long day? You left six hours ago to go to a lunch and somewhere in your _**long day **_decided I didn't even deserve a courtesy phone call?"

"Elliot it wasn't like that…" She knows their voices are rising but he's gone into interrogation mode and it's really pissing her off.

"Well then why don't you tell me exactly how it was?" His eyes are squinting and his jaw is locked, as the last act of agitation his arms fold across his chest to wait for her answer.

"I would if you would let me talk long enough to explain." She looks down at her feet and her eye catches the bottle still hanging from between his fingers. She walks toward him and easily tugs it from his hand. She takes a long slow drink under his intense stare. She wants to calm down some before continuing, having her neighbors call the cops on them would just be embarrassing.

He scrubs his hand down his face as the weariness from the last few emotional hours wash through him. His voice drops to a whisper as he speaks, "I was so worried Olivia, you know how it is out there, how many things can happen."

The irony of his statement knocks the last of the fight out of her and she walks over and drops to the sofa. "I went to see Cragen and he asked me to come back to the unit, so I had to tell him. He wants us both to see Huang before I return to see how we are mentally and emotionally. He doesn't seem sure if this is going to help us or hurt us on the job. We definitely can't be partners and he isn't even sure we can stay in the same unit. He'll make a decision after he gets the reports from Huang." She looks more than worried, almost frantic and he wonders if there wasn't more to the conversation.

"Did he say he didn't think we could handle it?"

"No, he said the odds were against us but he thinks we're both stubborn enough." She lets a small smile tug at her lips. "His concern is about the cases when we all have to work together because effectively we could still be partnered then. I think he's afraid of how we'll act in the field if something happens to one of us."

"Well, it's not like we didn't discuss that ourselves. I don't think we'll know exactly how we'll act until the situation presents itself. As far as the partner thing goes, how many times a year are we so short handed that we'd be forced together? When we're down that many people Cragen usually steps into the field to help." He sits down next to her because he can tell there's something else going on and he can't imagine what it is since Cragen hasn't actually ask one of them to transfer to another unit.

She's perfectly still and he can feel the heat pouring off of her. "He's just trying to cover his bases." He lets her sit quietly for a moment, knowing how she works, and waiting for her to talk to him. "He said I look happy."

He's confused by her sad tone in making the comment. Why wouldn't she be glad that she looks happy? He treads lightly now because he's getting worried. "Maybe you are happy."

She turns and gives him a small smile but it lacks the joy of conviction. "I went to see Huang to try to get the evaluation over with because the captain got a call and we didn't get to do lunch so I had some time. He wasn't in his office so I was going to call you and just come home. When I got outside I was walking and I just sort of lost my breath. George happened to be coming back to the building and saw me on the sidewalk. I ended up going to lunch with him."

"What do you mean you lost your breath? Did you fall or have it knocked out of you?" He's speaking softly now and listens with all his senses like he does when a perp is in the box and he needs to glean as much information as possible. Her story isn't making sense to him.

"It isn't the first time Elliot; it's actually the third time in the last few days. I get this tightening in my chest and then I find it hard to breathe. Huang wouldn't clear me to go back to work without sending me for a physical first. He said as soon as I was cleared he would book our appointments for the report to Cragen. When I left there I did try to call you but you didn't answer and I had left a message earlier so I called to make an appointment to see my doctor. After I explained what was happening she said she would see me right away. That's where I was for the next four hours, having tests done at the hospital where my phone was locked in a locker." She sighs heavily and he holds his breath, waiting.

"Jesus Olivia what the hell is the matter?" His mind is rapidly filling with a plethora of deadly conditions, each more frightening than the last. He wants to get in her face and ask her why she didn't call him and have him come to the hospital to be with her. As the words pile up in his head it occurs to him that she didn't call because she has never had anyone to call before now. She has handled every crisis in her life alone. Habit dictated her solitude today more than preference. It's one of those things she's going to have to learn.

"None of the tests show anything physical and Martha doesn't think they're going to but she'll call if something shows up. Barring any surprises at this point she and George are in agreement that I'm having panic attacks."

The relief that floods him is so intense he almost laughs. "Panic attacks? Panic attacks, really? You've never had them before so why would you now?"

She stands and begins to pace, he can see the fear in her movements. "I don't know but if I keep having them George is not going to put me back on the street with a gun. I have to get this figured out because it will mean my badge if I don't."

"When do you see George?" He's concerned, he really is but he's also grateful there isn't something physically wrong with her.

"I'm supposed to call him in the morning and if he has time I'll see him tomorrow." Elliot gets up and comes around the coffee table, pulling her into his arms. She settles against him and is impressed all over again with how firm he is against her. She doesn't want to talk about any of this anymore; it's been too much in one day.

"It's going to be fine Liv, I'm sure it's just all the life changes at once. You'll be fine. We'll be fine." He feels her tense and gently rubs her back to sooth her. He decides to leave it alone because he knows from experience she isn't going to feel any better until she has some answers. His best support will be to keep her from thinking about it as much as he can until then. He feels like an ass for the way he treated her when she came through the door. She didn't leave. She isn't leaving. He decides on a peace offering.

"I'm sorry about all that when you came through the door. I was just worried." She knows what he thought when she didn't come back. She knows he thought she had run and she only has herself to blame. She wants to tell him but she doesn't have the energy or the focus to do it right. She squeezes him a little tighter in response and he smiles when he feels her stomach growl against him. "I made lasagna, it's on the stove."

"Lasagna, huh? Who would have thought you'd be the kind of guy to make lasagna." He can hear the smile in her voice and it relaxes him.

"Hey! I'm not sure if I should be insulted or complimented by that comment." She lets go of a small laugh then and he's assured by the sound of it. "Here I was trying to impress you."

She pulls her head from his neck and looks into his eyes. It strikes her as odd that after all these years he would say he was trying to impress her. "Trying to impress me? Did you cook naked because that would have really impressed me?" She watches his eyes spark with the turn of the conversation.

"I considered it but without you here to watch I figured it was a waste. I was going to strip as I cooked and end up wearing just an oven mitt." She tries to maintain but the laughter gets the best of her as she pictures him standing naked with her lobster shaped over mitt propped up on his erect cock. Her laughter is ringing through the room now. "Now you'll have to wait until I'm in the mood to make lasagna again to see it."

She pulls completely out of his arms and walks toward the kitchen. "Well if I go and drop this one into the trash you'll be in the mood a lot quicker." He hurries into the kitchen behind her but pauses when he sees her peel back the foil on the dish. "Okay, you can strip for me next time, this look delicious and I'm starving. I'll think of some other way you can impress me after dinner." He grins and turns to get plates from the cupboard.

He's worried about what he thinks is obvious, that the panic attacks have something to do with him. There's also the possibility that the tremendous stress from being undercover could have triggered something. Then there's the place that his mind doesn't want to go, to the possibility that some terrible thing happened to her while she was gone and suppressing it is causing the attacks. All of the options are terrifying for one reason or another.

"EL!" Her shout startles him back into the moment. "Quit daydreaming about later and get those plates over here so I can serve this." She already has a piece of lasagna up on a spatula ready to go so he slips the plate underneath. He doesn't want her to know why he was so distracted so he tries to look guilty.

"You left me with that thought about impressing you and I was just thinking of all the ways I could do that."

It's a game that they're playing, pretending everything is okay with each other while they figure out how to discuss it. It makes her think of a program she watched on how the brain will create new pathways to communicate when part of it has been damaged. It feels strange to her to have to think about what she's going to say to him, to give sound to the voice in her head that she usually keeps silent from others. It helps to know he isn't the greatest communicator either. His own struggle is often clear to her in his expression. They're already learning though because they were able to diffuse their anger and talk pretty quickly today. It gives her a tentative feeling of hope.

They sit at the table and she smiles as she studies the layers and then cuts a healthy bite. She moans her approval, knowing that he's waiting for it. Satisfied that she likes the food he digs in himself. After the beers he needs something in his stomach before he slips into complete jerk mode. They eat in silence for a few minutes and then he gets up and opens a bottle of red wine.

"Sorry, I almost forgot about the wine." He pours for both of them and then sits back in his seat.

"I'll forgive you because the lasagna is so good I hadn't noticed yet." She wishes she had a switch to shut down her brain so she could just relax. There are far too many things racing around in her head.

When she looks at him he's holding up his glass for a toast so she taps hers against it. "To us Liv, where ever the road goes at least we're on it together."

"Is that an old Irish saying?" She chases the light conversation to adjust her mood.

"Yeah you know the Irish; they have a million of them. Most of them are drinking toasts." He can tell that she's still distracted and still struggling within herself. His lasagna is good but she's eating with far too much intensity.

"Tell me some of them. The only ones I know I learned in college." She couldn't repeat most of the ones she knew from college, not even to him.

She sets down her fork and lifts her glass to his, waiting. "May the lilt of Irish laughter lighten every load, may the mist of Irish magic shorten every road...and may all your friends remember, all the favors you are owed."

She can't help it, she smiles. She takes another bite of lasagna and keeps smiling. "If I counted how many favors you owe me from just doing paperwork I'd be set for life." He starts chuckling and she raises her glass again. "Tell me another one."

"You trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me?" The smile reaches his eyes and she can see the glint of desire there.

"I don't need to get you drunk to do that." He starts laughing then and lifts his glass.

"An Irishman is never drunk as long as he can hold onto one blade of grass and not fall off the face of the earth." He clinks his glass as her laughter begins and he can finally feel himself settling down. "Now you tell me one that you remember." He pushes his empty plate away and pours them both a refill.

"Birds do it and fly, bees do it and die, dogs do it and stick to it, why can't I?" His laughter bursts from him and he has to set his glass down so he doesn't spill it. She's actually blushing a little and he wishes he could remember her forever the way she is now, disheveled but painfully sexy, her cheeks pink with color and laughter spilling from her.

"Hey drink up and it's your turn to tell me another one." She takes an extra sip and waits for him.

"May those that love us, love us, and those that don't love us, may God turn their hearts, and if he doesn't turn their hearts, may he turn their ankles, so we'll know them by their limping." Their glasses touch once again and she begins to feel that soft hum in her head that signals the unraveling of the last of her tension.

"I really like that one. It would make life so much easier if all the jerks had a limp." He grabs their plates and sets them in the sink pausing to cover the lasagna and set it in the fridge before returning to the table.

"Okay, the balls in your court Benson, surely you have another one."

"Here's to Eve the mother of our race, who wore her fig leaf in the right place. Here's to Adam the father of us all, who was Johnny-on-the-spot when the leaf did fall." He's amused that hers has a biblical reference in it. They toast and she watches him drink, watches his neck work as he swallows the wine. She wants to place her lips in the dip where shadows form and taste him. His voice draws her eyes back to him.

"May God grant you many years to live, for sure he must be knowing, the earth has angels all too few and heaven is overflowing..." His eyes are on her now and his mood has clearly shifted from feeling good to wanting to feel her. He taps her glass and they drink.

She arches her brow at him in question. "You have met me right? I've been called many things in my life time but not once has anyone referred to me as an angel."

"You may not have heard it but I'd be willing to bet there's a city full of women out there who think of you as exactly that." She looks away because although she knows she's good at her job her heart aches when she thinks of the victims. What she does for them seems like so little in the face of all they have to overcome. Her voice becomes soft and for a second he sees something in her he clearly recognizes, the weight of all she's witnessed.

"I'm no angel." She's clearly uncomfortable and he didn't mean for that to happen. She finishes off her glass so he pours the last bit of the bottle into it and lifts his one last time.

"May we have those in our arms that we love in our heart." As her dark eyes swallow him he knows so clearly that he's defenseless in the face of how he feels for her. They empty their glasses together.

She shakes her head and smiles. "That Irish inclination to drink came with a poet's romantic heart. I never would have guessed." He stands, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet.

She slips her arms around his waist and pulls him against her. She's in awe at the sense of security she gets just from being against him like this. She turns her face into his neck and nuzzles down. They just stand there in the kitchen for a little while. He knows she needs something from him right now so he quietly lets her hold onto him and he prays that it's enough.

Against the background of the city traffic he hears her whisper into his flesh. "I can't loose my shield Elliot, I just can't. I don't know who I'd be without it."

The sound of her is so hollow it causes something in him to tighten to a painful degree. "You're not going to loose your badge. This is just a matter of getting worked out whatever it is that has you tensing up."

"If this gets out no one is going to want to partner with me. Who's going to go on the streets with someone that's having panic attacks? Once that trust is broken you know how it is, I'll never get it back."

"Hey, hey, slow down. First of all, no one has to know about this. Huang is bound by confidentiality at the moment and you haven't told anyone else. I would still trust you to have my back. I know you and above all else you're a good cop, no matter what else is going on, you're still a good cop."

"Great you're the one person that would still trust me and we can't be partners anymore. I don't even know how _you_ can say you would trust me out there. I could freeze up and be unable to defend myself, much less you. I don't even trust myself." He feels her stiffen in his arms, the tension within her mounting. He steps away from her and walks her to the sofa. He sits at the end and she turns her back to him, tucking herself against his side. His arm goes over her shoulder and she holds his hand in her lap. She lets herself relax until she's molded to his side. He's just about to ask her what she's doing when he realizes it's easier for her to talk to him if she's not looking at him. The Catholics had this figured out years ago with the design of the confessional. Fear and sin both tend to rise to the surface in the dark.

"Even if Huang clears me how will I know it won't happen on the job?"

"Because if he clears you he has already figured out what the trigger is for the attacks." He squeezes her hand gently in reassurance.

"You know how much I hate having to go in there so he can probe around in my head." Her grip on his fingers tightens with her frustration.

"Well, then try to make it as painless as possible. Go back to when you had the attacks, what you were thinking and doing that lead up to the feeling of panic. Start there and try to figure out for yourself what the moments have in common. The more you know going into the appointment the less you'll have to do with him staring at you." He wishes he could see her face now because he wants to know if she's responding to him. He presses his lips to the back of her head trying to will her thoughts to slow down.

"When I took off my shirt for my exam this afternoon my doctor wanted to know if I was dating a cannibal." It takes a second for her statement to sink in but its impact causes him to rumble with laughter. She's shifting gears so fast he's having trouble keeping up with her.

The solid feel of his arm across her is like a human seatbelt and she likes the weight of it against her. When he laughs it vibrates through her back and raises goose bumps on her front. She loves that he isn't like any of the other men she's ever dated. He doesn't try to redirect her when her conversations wander all over the place. He doesn't try to force her to a topic he can tell she's avoiding. He doesn't feel the need to graffiti the silence with awkward pointless questions. He's learned over the years to let her wander around in her head until she's gathered enough courage to deal with the things she finds difficult. He accepts her the way she is and even though she sees herself as damaged goods the truly astounding thing to her is that he doesn't.

She turns her body so her knees press into the back cushion and then she lays her head on his chest. He puts his arms around her but she's moving again. She scoots herself back but runs into his thigh so she lifts up onto his lap. After one more round of restless adjustments she has settled herself on his lap with her head on his shoulder and her arms tucked against his chest. It reminds him of when Kathleen was just a few years old. She was too stubborn to ask for comfort but she would climb onto the sofa and come over and lift his arm and crawl into his lap. He's fully aware that Olivia is not a child and if he was to relay the story to her she would be embarrassed and withdraw from him. Instead he settles his arms around her and holds her. She puts her arm over his, appreciative that he's giving her the mental space she needs while still offering her the security of his nearness.

He sits with her for a long time in the still of the room as it grows dim. He knows she isn't sleeping because occasionally he feels her lashes dust across his skin. He remembers that earlier she said they should sleep in their own beds tonight and he wonders if he should mention it now. He doesn't want to say anything. If he says he should go she'll agree just to prove to herself that she doesn't need him. He knows her. He also knows that right now she's seeking comfort so he isn't going to move a muscle unless she makes him.

She likes hearing his heart beat when she presses her ear to his chest. She likes the way his scent strokes her, beginning as a comfort and ending in arousal. Her fingertips drag lightly down his chest, following the lines of him in her own self entertainment. She feels his nipple through his shirt and firmly rubs the pad of her thumb back and forth until it hardens. She hears the soft gasp that shifts in his breathing and smiles. Her desire for him is such a simple thing, something she so completely understands. She surrenders herself to it now, letting it spread in rough waves down her limbs and out to her fingertips.

She stands suddenly and he's surprised by her movement. She takes his hand and tugs until he stands with her. She pulls his shirt until he lifts his arms and lets her take it from him. When it clears his face he's grinning at her. She jerks his undershirt out of his pants and moves around to his back.

"Hey, where are you going?" His shirt comes over his head and is dropped to the sofa.

"I'm not going anywhere El." The answer seems bigger than the question and he tilts his head, wondering over her mood. He arches when he feels her lips on his back. Her mouth is hot, pressing open mouth kisses down his shoulder blade. When she nips his skin his dick lurches. Her mouth moves to his spine, her tongue dances down the ridges chasing chills down his flesh. He's amazed at the heat pouring from her hands, blazing a path as they move down his sides. He watches her hands as she curves her fingers and drags her nails around to his abdomen. She sinks her teeth into his shoulder as she presses herself against his back and he watches his dick bulge just below her hands. He closes his eyes and feels his jeans loosen as the button pops through the hole and the zipper slides down.

His hands are flexing at his sides with the urge to touch her. He tips up his head and breathes through his mouth, seeking more air than there is in the room. She wishes she could memorize every inch of him because although he now feels familiar to her, it's not enough. She thought as she indulged herself in him in these last few days that she would begin to feel like he belonged to her. Instead she still feels like she's on borrowed time with him and her need blooms exponentially every time he drives himself into her.

She slips one hand past the elastic of his underwear and protects his penis as she pushes everything down over his hips. He feels her smile against the back of his neck as her fingers tighten around the hard length of him. She strokes him root to tip one time and a rough moan echoes into the room. She releases him and steps away long enough to squat down and rid him completely of his remaining clothing. She sighs with the sheer satisfaction of having him totally naked.

Her mouth and hands return to him, moving over the perfectly defined muscles in his back with new hunger. He arches and rolls his shoulders so everything shifts beneath her touch. She flattens her palms against him and drags them down to the magnificent slope of his ass. She squeezes and is amazed that her fingers barely make a dent in the solid muscle. He flexes them and her breath is a hot flame skimming over his skin as she laughs. She presses her body into him, rubbing the soft curls of her pussy across his cheeks. The sensation is more than he can bear so he turns to face her, desperate to touch her. He wonders when she managed to shed the rest of her clothing.

He settles his hands on the natural slope of her hips and forces himself to let her continue at her own pace. He alternates tensing his pecs as she touches them and she can't help but grin. While her hands dance over his chest she places an open mouth kiss over his heart, gently sucking at his skin. His hands slide up her sides and begin feather light stroking on the outside curve of her breasts. Her nipples harden and her shoulders draw forward from the tightening of desire in her chest. Her stomach quivers with the ache passing through her while her body coils with need. She nips a path from his collar bone to his ear lobe and then flicks it with her tongue as she takes it in her mouth. When she grinds her hips up his erection play time is suddenly over.

He tips up her chin and captures her mouth with his; letting the burn between them intensify as his tongue strokes hers. His fingers close hard around her nipple and a groan rips from her. She's rocking against him now, her hands pressing his hips as she moves in a satisfying rhythm. He feels her wetness gliding over his cock, teasing him and preparing him all at once. He steps away from her suddenly and before she can protest he scoops her up into his arms. A small yelp escapes her and she grabs a hold of him to stop the sensation that she's falling.

"Elliot!" The exasperation in her tone says everything.

His mouth drops next to her ear as he heads toward the bedroom. "Shhhhh, relax Olivia and just let me take you." The aching low timbre of his voice in her ear causes a hot rush over her skin. She knows he meant take her to the room but her mind already has him taking her so many other ways. Naked in his arms she's impressed by the wall of hard strength that carries her effortlessly down the hall. His rock hard arms feel completely secure and she would die before telling him how fucking sexy she really thinks this is.

He lays her down on the bed and eases himself down next to her. Her fingers are running over the scar on his arm. She was there with him when so many of the scars on his body were made. Her thoughts swim through all the moments she witnessed him injured as her hands seek and stroke each scar they left behind. How could she have been so intimately involved in those moments and not have touched the results until now?

He lifts his head from her neck, "why are you scowling?" She relaxes her expression when he speaks and gathers a smile for him. He's aware that her hands have been tracing the scars on his body and he wants to draw her thoughts away from those dark places. She slides her leg up over his hip and pulls herself closer to him.

"I saw so many things happen to you over the years. It just seems strange that I know when each of these injuries happened and I'm just now getting to touch them." She doesn't think her words are accurately describing how she feels and a small frustrated sigh tells him as much as her voice.

His mouth drops down and his lips capture the scar on her neck, sucking softly before his eyes come back to hers. "I know."

It's all she needs to hear because the truth of it is exactly who they are, reflections of everything they know about the world and everything they learned about each other. His mouth covers hers and his hand cups her breast, taking what has really belonged to him all along.

She spreads her legs and the head of him nudges at her. She arches up and eases the hard thick length of him into her eager wetness. She's pulsing around him as he pushes deeper and deeper until there is nothing left between them. She grabs his ass with one hand to hold him there and keeps clenching in a hard slow rhythm. He groans into her throat overwhelmed by her ability to nearly fuck him without moving. He tips his hips harder against her and a low moan vibrates in her chest. He moves his mouth down her neck and then slowly draws himself out until only her lips are wrapped around the head of him. He pauses for just a second before driving hard all the way back into her. She bows up into him, crying out from the sheer intensity of it. He moves his mouth to her breast and nips at her nipple just as he thrusts into her again.

She thinks she's going to grab his head to pull him away, it's too much, too sensitive but as he pushes inside her again she just holds on instead. Her body arches up into him and she's loud, she knows she is but she can't reel herself back in and the force of him tangles her voice with her breath as it leaves her. When he drags himself past her swollen walls with agonizing slowness once again she suppresses a scream. Her hands both sit on his ass now and her nails bite into his flesh. She presses her head back into the pillow and his mouth moves to her other breast.

'"Go, dear god just go." Her voice is a low rasp into the damp air. He pauses in surprise, hovering at her entrance.

The sound of the sharp slap rings into the room and burns across his cheek causing him to clench and gasp in shock. "I said_ go_, Elliot." The stillness is shattered by a hard growl and then the pounding slam of his body. Their voices blend into one rolling sound as he pistons himself inside of her like a ravenous beast unleashed in the darkness. Everything becomes a blur of movement and wetness and sound rushing and thundering into a mind numbing crash. Her scream pierces his thoughts a second before her body locks down with vice like force fisting around his dick and triggering his explosion within her. He grunts with the effort of remaining inside of her, lurching against her as the searing white bursts surge through him. Her body is a plane of solid muscle arching up against him, damp and trembling.

She feels like she's drowning in her own senses. The rushing in her ears is too loud, the heat and sweat have left her sensitive skin slipping against him and there are stars of light bursting behind her closed eyes. Her heart is thumping furiously inside her and her breaths are rasping in the effort to bring her air. She may be thirstier than she has ever been in all her life. She has no point of reference in her entire history for how she feels. This isn't sex anymore. This isn't making love or fucking either. This is something that has crawled outside descriptive language. She has no words so she doesn't speak.

He's still braced above her and he can feel her body shaking beneath him and her muscles still twitching madly around his dick. He doesn't think she's cold, he knows the trembling comes from somewhere else. He puts his leg outside of hers and tries to gracefully roll them over together. As he lands on his back her hips shift and he slips from inside her with a soft wet sound.

"Damn." Her voice is clear in the quiet of the room.

He starts to chuckle. In all honesty he was trying to stay tucked inside her as they settled. She tightens her arms around his chest but drops her hip next to him so her body can get some air. The hair along the back of her neck is damp and clinging to her skin. She's about to reach for it when she feels his hand lift it off her neck and she smiles.

"You slapped my ass." He delivers the line in a deadpan tone and tries to hold his laughter. His cheek is still a little warm and he knows if he looked he could still see the outline of her hand.

"I needed you to move and besides from your reaction I gather you didn't really mind." She knew she had swatted him harder than she had intended, her fingers and palm stung and then flushed warm from the impact. He's laughing now and she realizes her shaking is subsiding.

"No, I didn't mind at all but just remember that old saying that turn about is fair play." Even as the words leave his lips her body flushes. No she won't mind especially if it ends like it did just now. He had been so incredibly deep inside her and she had so desperately needed to feel the hot friction of him moving within in that when he burst into action she almost exploded. As she recalls she was in fact yelling, or moaning or whatever that was pouring out of her.

"I suppose it is." She feels him still beneath her and she almost laughs out loud because she knows he has that stunned look on his face.

His hand slides down and caresses the globe of her ass as though he's visiting the idea of it. In his head all he can hear is his own voice asking for clarification. Did she just give him permission to spank her? During sex? His dick is not capable of getting hard right now but he knows that the next time it does it will be because this thought is still burning in his head. He cups her cheek against his palm and thinks about the sound it will make and how her pussy will seize around his dick and rush wet from the stinging. His handprint will be on her ass.

"Elliot, breathe." As he releases the air in his lungs she lets go of her laugh. She pulls away from him and gets out of bed. "I'll be right back." He watches he walk down the hall and closes his eyes to block out the images. Even the thought of her may kill him. He hears her rummaging in the kitchen and then turning off lights and coming back down the hall.

She climbs onto the bed holding two bottles of water and a small bowl full of grapes. She takes a long drink of her water as she hands him his bottle. She pops a grape in her mouth and smiles at him. "They're great when you're thirsty." She drops one on his tongue when he opens his mouth and he grins. She takes the next one and places it between her lips and leans down to him. He sucks the grape from her lips and kisses her. She sits back up and tosses one in the air, efficiently catching it in her mouth.

"Nice catch." Her eyes meet his and he's struck by this image of her, naked and tangled in the sheets with him eating grapes as though this is how they have always shared a snack. There are a dozen marks on her body from his mouth and looking at them causes a tingling sensation in his dick. She grins at him and bounces a grape in her palm.

"Ready?" He nods and she tosses it up above him. He arches his neck and catches it easily. She throws him a few more before setting the bowl on the nightstand with the water and sliding in next to him. She drapes herself half over him and sighs deeply, settling herself despite the early hour. She closes her eyes because right now she thinks she can rest. She feels him kiss her forehead and she lies still, listening to his heart beat. His hand is stroking through her hair and he wishes he could hold onto this night because he knows how difficult tomorrow will be for both of them.

Tbc…


End file.
